


Chasing Poppies

by mela1223



Category: Midnight Poppy Land (Webcomic)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Developing Relationship, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, Romance, Slow Burn, definitely angsty, probably some angst i mean it's tora, sorry tora
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-05
Updated: 2021-03-12
Packaged: 2021-03-15 16:48:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 41
Words: 330,818
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28567209
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mela1223/pseuds/mela1223
Summary: What if Poppy never crashed on her way back from Moonbright?
Relationships: Tora/Poppy Wilkes
Comments: 1489
Kudos: 330





	1. The Decision

**Author's Note:**

> I haven't written fanfiction in so so long, but this wonderful community has really inspired me to pick it up again! 
> 
> Characters belong to the real MVP Lilydusk, brilliant creator of Midnight Poppy Land. Support her on Patreon! https://www.patreon.com/lilydusk

**Chapter 1**

“Oh, Pops! What about this one?” Erdene jabbed a freshly manicured finger at the open flash tattoo binder on the counter beside her friend. Poppy glanced up from her own binder to look at her best friend who, in her excitement to point out an image, had nearly ripped the page from the book entirely, much to the alarm of the man on the other side of the counter who had spent the last fifteen minutes scrolling absentmindedly on his phone.

“Jesus, Dene! Careful with my fuckin’ books,” he quickly put his phone down and leaned over the glass surface, gently tugging the binder away from the two women, running a hand over his clean-shaven head and the mandala inked on the crown of his skull. “I don’t wanna have to re-laminate this shit _again_.” He huffed as Erdene clicked her teeth.

“Cable, it’s her first tattoo,” Erdene rolled her eyes as he placed his palms on either side of the books to lean almost protectively over the glossy pages displaying his flash art, “you’re killing the vibe, dude!”

He glanced up at Poppy, taking in the way her brows had pulled together and up in an effort to keep her expression neutral as she took in the drawing that had Erdene practically on top of her. “I’m gonna take a wild guess that’s not what you had in mind,” the corner of Cable’s mouth pulled up when Poppy met his eyes and she blushed just slightly in embarrassment.

“Oh! There’s nothing wrong with it, I just…” she trailed off and looked back down at the image: the head of a unicorn colored with some of the brightest pinks and purples Poppy had ever seen, its golden horn piercing a rainbow. “I’m not really sure if it’s…me?”

Cable chuckled, “it’s definitely not everyone’s style, that’s for sure.” Poppy sighed in relief that he hadn’t seem to be offended by her less than eager response.

Ever the supportive best friend, Erdene slid the binder away from Poppy back down the counter—gentler this time as Cable gave her a pointed look—and shrugged, “you’re right, it’s one thing to have a unicorn phone case or notebook and it’s something else entirely to get one inked on you permanently.” She flipped the page. “You need something badass to celebrate kicking that dickwad to the curb.”

Though it felt like an eternity had passed since Poppy had returned from what was supposed to be a three-day weekend in Moonbright, it’d only been last night that she’d shown up at Erdene’s apartment with a half-empty box of wine and a storm of conflicting emotions. She still wasn’t sure what to make of walking in on Julri with another woman. She didn’t quite recall stealing back the moped she’d given him from the side of his building, and yet some minutes later she’d come to as she passed a mile marker for Narin City, driving along the country road headed back toward her apartment, her plans to spend the weekend with Julri abandoned. After the initial shock had worn off on the ride, she’d felt a deep sadness at his betrayal. They’d been high school sweethearts after all, and the past couple years hadn’t meant _nothing_ to her even despite the way he’d hidden her from his friends, the way he’d mocked her in public and private, shaming her for who she was, the way he’d tried to stunt her growth beyond their adolescence all while demanding her full time and attention. Never satisfied with what she gave.

Flipping through the binder in front of her, she thought of the way his stupid mouth had fallen open in surprise as she unlocked the front door of what had been their shared home, the sound of his voice pitched a couple octaves higher than normal as though her fist had clenched around his throat. And she had wanted to, certainly, but only much later once she’d made it back to her apartment in the city. Instead, she had turned around and closed the door behind her, wasting no time in tacking on an “ex” before “boyfriend.” Her ex. She had an ex now. Poppy turned the idea over in her head, still in some disbelief of all that had happened between leaving her hometown and arriving in Cable’s tattoo shop.

She remembered the last kiss she’d shared with Ju—her ex as she departed for her new job in the big city, the way his lips had pursed in an unmoving line against hers before he quickly turned his head to deflect her own soft kiss to his cheek. _Darn it, Poppylan, get it together. You’re not going to cry over a cheating jerk, you’re not going to cry over a cheating jerk._ She couldn’t stop the tears, though, in direct conflict with the mantra she’d been repeating to herself since closing the door on Julri and the woman still tangled in his arms.

“Stop crying over that cheating jerk!” Poppy shook her head to rid his face from the front of her mind as the Narin City skyline appeared on the horizon ahead of her, the summer haze cloaked the buildings in bruised purples, pinks, and ochres—a warm cloud beckoning her home. She’d return to her small, plant-filled apartment and put on some music, she decided, maybe bake something sweet. She knew there was still a half-full box of rosé tucked on the corner of her kitchen counter from last weekend when Erdene had come over for a rom-com marathon, so if she wanted to drink, she could without having to worry about whether she could afford it. _Erdene_. She should tell Erdene—Poppy knew her friend would be elated and would probably help her to stop wallowing, but it was all still so fresh and raw. She needed time to breathe on her own in her safe space.

As Poppy passed another mile-marker announcing the proximity of the city drawing her closer still, a flash of red caught her eye from the left side of the road: a field smattered with poppy flowers. _I miss you, too, Dad_ , she thought, suddenly the tears she’d finally managed to balance on the rim of her lower lashes spilled over, knowing her father was watching over her. The flowers, she was certain, were a sign, a reminder she did not have to weather this heartbreak alone. After all, she had been through much worse.

*

“I know I was…I am good, I am…I can’t get my head around it…feeling smaller and smaller,” Poppy sang softly along to the playlist she’d titled _it’s okay to cry_ as The National’s “I Need My Girl” crooned from her laptop’s tinny speakers in the other room, a couple octaves below her own harmony. Her voice looped in and out of the song, singing only half the words as she took steadying breaths, her fingers carefully folding a ball of sourdough in on itself, up and over. Turn. Up and over, turn.

When she had first gotten back to her apartment that afternoon, she had seen the photo of Julri and herself from graduation that she kept on the fridge. The sight of his smiling face squished against hers just a handful of years ago—one open hand palmed against her hair, the other fisted in the air around a rolled diploma—had nearly brought Poppy to her knees. How long had he been cheating? _Was our entire relationship a lie?_ Her eyes dragged instantly to the grainy photo beside the candid graduation shot, held up by a plastic red magnet in the shape of a plump strawberry. Poppy met her father’s gaze and ran across the kitchen to tear her ex away from the other photos of her family and friends—the people she cherished. Her hands shook as she gripped the photo, debating whether or not to try tearing out her ex so as to salvage the only photo she had from that day. After a moment she decided against it, instead folding the print in half so that it creased over his face and chucking it up onto the top of her fridge, well out of reach. He’d been a part of her life, after all. _A shitty part_ , she thought. _Stupid, cheating jerk-face._

She’d felt the sudden desire—no, the _need_ —to pummel something, quickly reaching for the container of flour she kept in the cupboard along with her jar of sourdough starter. But bread took a long time to make, she quickly realized after having spent arguably too much time kneading the dough and setting it aside to rise. She would make cake, _and eat it too!_ she almost chuckled.

From the kitchen, Poppy heard the opening notes of Snow Patrol’s “You Could Be Happy” just as the oven timer dinged, signaling that the pound cake had finished baking. Hearing the first lines of the song, Poppy felt her throat start to tighten again as she set the cake on a wire rack to cool. _No. Nope, nope. You will not cry over that cheating jerk!_ She quickly ran over to her laptop and snapped the cover shut. Her sudden movement caught her eye in the glass door to her apartment’s small balcony. The sky had darkened significantly since she’d gotten home—instead of the street view she was accustomed to Poppy saw her own space reflected back at her. She couldn’t tear her eyes from the way her shorts puckered around her thighs, the soft swell of her lower belly. Had her love handles grown? She turned to the side to examine her profile, _is this why he cheated?_ She’d noticed the way Julri had stopped holding her waist when they walked together, the way he avoided touching her middle even the occasional times they’d make out on the couch after a couple of drinks. Had Julri been so repulsed— _girl, shut the fuck up_. Poppy could hear Erdene’s voice in her head, knowing exactly what she would say. Poppy still hadn’t texted her friend about the breakup or about the fact that she would now be spending the weekend in the city—in fact, as far as she was concerned, she’d be spending all her future weekends in the city for the foreseeable future. Erdene would love that. Poppy decided she would love that, too. _You should go see her._ Taking one last look at her reflection in the door, Poppy went to change into her favorite sweater—the ride over would be chilly, she’d quickly become familiar with the way that Narin’s summer heat leaked away from the city streets at night the further away from downtown she traveled. Luckily, Erdene lived in a posh high rise right in the busiest part of the city, but Poppy still had to get there from her building on the outer limits of the district.

Poppy smiled as she caught a glimpse of her outfit in the balcony door reflection on her way out of the apartment, pound cake and box of wine bulging from the where she’d stuffed them into her messenger bag. The bright pink sweater and its cheeky slogan in bold, black font (“why can’t someone else just do it”) never failed to cheer her.

*

Poppy could hear what sounded like laughter and muffled squeals on the other side of the bright green door after Erdene had buzzed her up. Her friend had been confused to hear Poppy’s voice over the intercom, but hadn’t hesitated to invite her up, perhaps sensing intuitively that something was wrong for her friend to show up unannounced on a weekend when she was supposed to be out of town. Poppy knocked on the door and waited as the sounds quickly quieted before she heard footsteps and suddenly her lavender-haired friend was standing in front of her, an expression of delight and worry at war across her face.

“Poppy! Girl, I’m surprised to see you, I thought you were out of town this weekend.” She quickly grabbed Poppy and crushed her against her bony frame, which Poppy couldn’t help but notice was adorned in a skimpy black dress that bared her sternum, her plunging neckline displaying her lacy chest tattoo. “What, Moonbright not as exciting as you remember?” She felt Erdene’s breathy laugh against the top of her hair and tightened her arms around her friend, a burn bubbling in the lower recesses of her chest. “Pops?” Erdene extricated herself gently from Poppy’s hold and gazed down into her friend’s suddenly glassy eyes.

“Julri—I,” Poppy drew a quick breath as Erdene’s bright blue eyes narrowed, “I walked in on him. On them.” She watched as Erdene’s jaw flexed and her nostrils flared for a moment before she was pulled into the apartment.

“What a fucking, cocksucking utter shitbag. Fucking dickwad. Honey,” Erdene had led Poppy into her spacious living room, relieving her of the overstuffed messenger bag and leading her to sit on an enormous black couch, “are you—”

“Dene?” Poppy’s head whipped around at the sound of a man’s voice coming from down the hall before he appeared in the entryway to the living room. His dark eyes flicked from Erdene to Poppy, and his arms had frozen halfway in the process of pulling on a black blazer over his white t-shirt. On any other person, Poppy noted, the most distinctive feature of the man would have been the shock of pink hair styled neatly atop a fade, but what held Poppy’s attention was the large tattoo covering his entire neck which dipped below his collar. She could tell through the thin cotton of his shirt that the ink traveled most of the way down his torso. A couple moments passed with the man still frozen, unsure of how to proceed, as it was clear to him that the unknown woman sitting beside Erdene was on the verge of tears. Poppy glanced back at Erdene, having realized she’d been openly ogling the man who seemed to be Erdene’s date. _Her date! You’re crashing her Friday night!_

“I’m so sorry, hold that thought, Pops.” Erdene placed a hand on Poppy’s knee, then stood quickly to move to the man behind them as he slowly pulled his blazer into place.

“Oh my—Dene, I’m so sorry,” Poppy moved to grab her bag off the coffee table where it had been tossed on their way to the couch.

“No! Pops, butt in seat.” Erdene whirled back around to face Poppy, “now.” She smacked the back of the couch for good measure. Only when Poppy had lowered herself back to the couch did Erdene stride the rest of the way over to the man. They exchanged words softly, their heads tucked together as Erdene led him slowly to the door, his hand resting just above the dip in her hips. Just as he was about to step beyond the green door out into the hallway, the man turned back and weaved a hand back around her friend’s waist, pulling her gently to him as his other hand crept up to the back of her neck, holding her tight against his body as he leaned down to kiss her goodnight. Erdene brought her hands up from the sides of the door frame and embraced him, running her fingers through the man’s pink hair. After a couple of seconds, Poppy quickly turned away feeling her face burning, having realized this was a goodnight kiss unlike anything she had ever experienced with Julri. She didn’t think she’d ever be able to forget the image of the man’s hand sliding down her friend’s back to rest on the slight curve of her bottom, deepening the kiss as Erdene moaned softly. Such an intimate moment she knew she had not been meant to see. _This isn’t one of your smutty books, Poppylan—it’s_ Dene _and her hot date!_ She couldn’t help but compare her own body to Erdene’s, thinking back to her reflection in the balcony door. How much softer her profile was compared to her friend’s slim figure, tucked tightly in the arms of this man she’d never mentioned before.

Poppy was so caught in her own thoughts that she hadn’t realized the man had departed until she felt the couch sink slightly next to her, as her friend collapsed next to her. “God _damn_ ,” she sighed staring up at the ceiling, arms outstretched to the back of the couch before turning her head to look at Poppy. “Sorry about that—first time trying out Bumble and I gotta say…shoulda tried it sooner. It’s like a whole other level, I swear…” she trailed off as Poppy hadn’t laughed in the way she normally would, always eager to discuss Erdene’s exploits in the privacy of one of their apartments. “Pops?”

*

Three glasses of rosé and some more tears later, Poppy had reached up from her position cradled on her friend’s lap to trace the lines of Erdene’s chest tattoo. She’d long admired her friend’s style, but even more so, the tattoo represented an almost otherworldly kind of strength her friend possessed—a strength Poppy was sure she herself would never have. She remembered the way Erdene had sat through the piece stoically, despite her thin stature and the way she asserted she could feel the needle so much clearer over her bones.

“Whatcha doin, Pops?” Erdene smiled down at her. “Sucks I don’t swing that way, but if I _did_ you can bet your ass we’d both be wearing much less right about now,” she laughed before polishing off the rest of her glass.

“Same, bitch,” Poppy smiled, still tracing the fine lines across the slight dip between her friend’s breasts.

“And who knows, maybe we’d try out that new toy I was telling you about—it came in the mail this morning,” she smirked with a wicked gleam in her eyes, “not gonna lie, pretty psyched I get to test it out tonight since Damien couldn’t stay. Did I tell you it’s Bluetooth compatible?” She lifted her glass again to take another sip, seemingly having forgotten she’d just emptied it.

“Would you get another one?”

“Well shit, I haven’t tried it out yet, Pops, but I’ll give you an in-depth review in the morning with my answer. My definitive answer,” she giggled.

Confusion drew Poppy’s brows together for a moment before she realized the miscommunication, a bit slower in her thinking than she would’ve been had she not just drank the equivalent of half a bottle of wine. “Dene. Jesus,” Poppy snorted, “I meant your tattoo, you perv.”

“Oh definitely,” Erdene didn’t hesitate, “I’ve actually got a thigh piece scheduled with Cable a couple months from now. You remember Cable, right?” She picked up the end of one of Poppy’s braids and twirled it in her fingers. “Fucking gorgeous,” she sighed.

“What about the hunk from tonight?”

“Huh?” Erdene glanced down at Poppy again.

“I didn’t know you were into Cable,” Poppy shrugged, bringing her hand down to rub her eyes. If she didn’t get up or continue to drink she was going to fall asleep right there in Erdene’s lap.

“Cable? Girl, what?”

“Well, you’re sighing over him like you’re pining after him or something…” Poppy smiled mischievously meeting her friend’s confused gaze, “you gonna think about him tonight while you--”

“Poppylan Wilkes!” Realization dawned on Erdene as she made to slap Poppy’s ass.

“Ow! Bitch,” Poppy rolled deftly off Erdene’s lap and onto the floor where she righted herself into a cross-legged position.

“I was calling _you_ gorgeous, not fucking Cable,” she almost shuddered. “He’s like my fucking brother.”

Poppy scoffed and stood to head to the kitchen for more wine, promptly realizing they were out. “Dene, you got more vino?” she shouted louder than necessary back into the living room.

“No, but that fancy-pants liquor store around the corner is open late. I’ll give you my card if you can go for us,” Erdene was scrolling through her phone when Poppy returned from the kitchen with two glasses of water. “Oh hey,” she shoved her phone across the coffee table to where Poppy was seated on the floor again. “You ever see this trend on TikTok? It’s all the rage with the kids—” she leaned in closer conspiratorially, “they make temporary tattoos with perfume.” She stared at Poppy with wide eyes, clearly waiting for a big reaction. “Fucking _perfume_ , Pops! They print out whatever the fuck they want on a piece of paper, soak it in perfume, do some magic,” she waved her hands over her phone, “and then, poof! Temporary tattoo. No need to hold a fucking wet sponge to a slimy sheet of paper—do you remember those?” Poppy had sat back, leaning on her palms as Erdene rambled.

“Dene, I want a real tattoo.”

Erdene cocked her head to the side, eyes wide in shock.

“I’ve always wanted one, but Jul—”

“—dickwad,” Erdene cut in.

Poppy half-laughed, half-sighed, “ _dickwad_ never wanted me to get one.” She broke eye contact with Erdene who had grown very serious all of sudden. “Every time I’d bring it up all he could do was talk about how ugly he thought they were…” she paused for a moment before her eyes rested on Erdene’s for the millionth time that night, “…but I think they’re beautiful.” She looked back at Erdene who seemed to be on the verge of tears now, “I want one.”

“We’re gonna go see Cable tomorrow,” Erdene said, reaching to grab her phone and pull up her messages. “I was supposed to have a design consultation with him, so I’ll just give you my spot,” she reasoned. “I’m texting him now to let him know.”

Poppy sat up straighter, the sudden realization that she might be getting inked _tomorrow_ like a bucket of ice down her sweater. “Dene, are—are you sure? I mean, is that something you can just…do?”

She waited as Erdene finished her text to Cable, her long thumb nails tapping against the screen before she looked back up at Poppy. “Absolutely. And he owes me like a gazillion favors, so he’ll be chill about it.” She smiled at her friend. “Do you wanna try some out?”

Poppy gave her a blank stare, wondering what on earth Erdene was talking about. Tattoos weren’t like clothes, after all.

“The TikTok!” Erdene waved her phone at Poppy, “remember? The perfume? I’ve got some cheap shit we can use, a printer I never use which is definitely full of ink, and we have Pinterest! Let’s look for some designs!” Erdene slid from the couch so they could huddle around her phone as she opened the app. “Give me a simple design we can try, I think I’ll just try a star,” she muttered as an afterthought, “wanna see if this shit actually works.”

“Think they’ve got any cute strawberries on Pinterest?” Poppy asked, leaning over Erdene’s shoulder.

“You bet your ass, they must,” Erdene laughed and started typing it into Pinterest, on the hunt for a cutesy design for her best friend. “Oh, Pops,” she glanced up and motioned behind them toward the front door, “my wallet is next to my keys—if you wanna grab the platinum card, once we’ve got your _strawberry_ tattooed, you can run down to the liquor store,” Erdene wiggled her eyes at the word strawberry and laughed when Poppy elbowed her. 

*

Poppy smiled as she passed over an image of a strawberry in Caleb’s flash binder. Less cute than the one Erdene had printed for her (hers had a face, after all, and Caleb’s looked more like an actual piece of fruit), but nice nonetheless. She blushed, remembering the man she bumped into at the liquor store the night before. The way he’d reached so effortlessly with one arm to grab a box of wine from the top shelf for her, his vibrant peony sleeve on full display while his other hand clutched an open strawberry juice mixer. The heat of his hand when his fingers brushed hers as he handed her the wine. And his eyes—warm pools of amber she’d wanted to sink into. _Tora_ , he’d said. She couldn’t be certain if it was the wine in her blood, the fresh breakup, or how his gaze had warmed her straight to her core—maybe a combination of all three—but Poppy was sure she’d never forget his name.

“Do you have any flowers?” Poppy asked, looking up at Caleb.

“Where’d you want to get ‘em?” Caleb seemed to perk up at the notion that Poppy might know what she wanted to get. “Depending on the area I could freehand a design directly on you—what do you say?”

“Oh, won’t that cost a lot more…?” Poppy glanced back at Erdene, who had insisted on paying for Poppy’s first tattoo, _in celebration of never having to see dickwad ever again_ she’d said.

Erdene put her card down on the counter and slid it over to Cable who joined Erdene in smiling at Poppy. “We got you, girl.”

Poppy looked between their two grins, and thought again about the stranger named Tora. Not that she knew anything about him, but she could almost hear his husky voice egging her on. She wondered if he’d be on board with this, but, then again, it only mattered what _she_ thought, didn’t it. “What the fudge, let’s do it,” she beamed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 2: what's Tora been up to anyway?


	2. Meet cute

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tora embarks on a midnight mission to buy alcohol for Quincey when he meets someone he won't easily forget.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you, thank you for your sweet comments on the first chapter--they made my day!! I've planned out the next 6 or 7 chapters (not written yet though haha), but after that I think I'm gonna wing it and see what happens. Buckle up!
> 
> I haven't written fanfiction in so so long, but this wonderful community has really inspired me to pick it up again!
> 
> Characters belong to the real MVP Lilydusk, brilliant creator of Midnight Poppy Land. Support her on Patreon! https://www.patreon.com/lilydusk

**Chapter 2**

The moonlight caught the ring on Tora’s middle finger as he took a drag of his cigarette, the ember burning bright in the dark car as he inhaled. He’d been putting off the inevitable, fidgeting every time a car hummed in the distance, the sound too similar to the buzz of his phone. Quincey had sighed an exasperated _really, honey?_ when Tora’d insisted on driving rather than walking the handful of blocks down the street to the liquor store. He hadn’t expected the man to text him every few minutes to wonder what was taking so long while also making last-minute additions to a steadily lengthening shopping list. Tora had just wanted a moment alone before having to climb from the dark haze that had filled his car, was that too fuckin’ much to ask?

He hated when his boss’s son sent him on these runs to replenish his penthouse’s dwindling stock of wine and spirits, mostly because Quincey insisted Tora buy from _this_ specific store. When Tora’d demanded to know what the fuck was so special about this place, Quincey’d launched into a lecture about _big box trash_ this and _support local shit_ that—Tora’d rolled his eyes and just about immediately tuned him out, turning back to resume his first-person shooter, much to Quincey’s annoyance. It was no wonder, though, why Quincey preferred this store. Had nothing to do with his “principles” as he’d tried so desperately to convince Tora. The place was posh, _just like Quincess_ , Tora thought. A small upscale store specializing in fine wines and cheeses on the corner of 5th and Narin Boulevard smack dab in the center of the city. Tora didn’t have to look through the storefront’s floor-to-ceiling windows to know what kind of people he’d find inside: a mix of the city’s wealthiest elite. People who could afford to live in the surrounding high rises, who thought nothing of dropping a couple hundred on a 20-year aged bottle of red shipped from the States or some shit. People who lived so close they simply walked to the store, leaving their luxury vehicles safely parked in private underground lots. People like Quincey…if Quincey were one to buy his own shit.

As Tora took one last drag and stubbed out his cigarette in the center console ashtray, he thought back to every time he’d been here before, a shitty composite memory encompassing the interactions he could expect to encounter tonight as well. As soon as he set foot in the store, he knew the clerks would flinch if he glanced in their direction, the customers would give him a wide berth—one time, he remembered with a grimace, a man who stood just shy of Tora’s 6’ 3” frame had even abandoned his shopping basket entirely when Tora had reached to grab a bottle a couple feet away. He’d feel their eyes crawling over his back when they thought he wasn’t looking, wary that the towering man built like a wall of lean muscle would cause trouble. _Pfft_ , he sighed, eyes flicking to his rearview mirror, checking the boulevard behind him for any dark figures he may have missed lurking in the shadows of the surrounding skyscrapers. They had no idea Tora did much worse than shoplift as part of his clan duties, he thought moodily as he reached toward the passenger seat to grab his jacket, eyes still scanning his mirrors—at least he could cover most of his heavily inked arms before setting foot in the store. _You dumb fuck_ , he swore as his fingers clutched at the empty seat, realizing he’d forgotten the jacket on the back of Quincey’s couch in his haste to get a momentary reprieve from the last few days of beta reading the man’s newest romance novel—a fic set on the moon between two rival colonies.

“Think: Romeo & Juliet but make it future, sexy, with consenting adults,” Quincey had pitched a couple nights ago with a wave of his hands as soon as Tora had set foot through the door to Quincey’s penthouse.

“Quince,” Tora had nearly staggered under the force of Quincey’s friendly pat on his shoulder. His muscles screamed in protest as he’d been dragged further into the penthouse—his head ached from exhaustion. “Quince, I really can’t—”

“You can and you must,” the young Balthuman heir had insisted, pulling his friend toward the couch, failing to see the hollowed out look in the man’s eyes, their usual amber color dulled to a brown. It wasn’t Quincey’s fault, Tora told himself, that the younger man wasn’t aware that he’d just completed one of the few jobs his father could assign that, even now, after so many years of being conditioned to repress his emotions, pushed Tora back into his childhood, leaving him gasping for air. Just a few short hours before, Tora had been hunched forward in his car with his door flung open, clutching the hardened leather of the steering wheel, unable to hold a cigarette steady long enough to light it. Vincent’s orders had been clear: the rival clan’s general should be delivered via cargo container. He’d locked him in and driven away as the man cried himself hoarse. No matter the size, a box was still a box. A box with a lock was still a cage. And Tora’d just thrown away the key.

Tearing the key from the ignition, Tora already wanted another cigarette, but he was running low and wouldn’t have a chance to buy another pack until the morning. _Fuck_ , he groaned inwardly. He swung his legs from the car and stepped into the near empty street. It was just a half hour from closing—with a bit of luck, he’d be the only customer. His phone buzzed in his pocket and he leaned against the driver’s side door to see what the hell Quincey wanted.

@Quince: Oh! I forgot to ask you to grab another of the Devil’s Loin malbec.  
@Quince: Mostly for the name hehe

@Quince: But seriously, if you could grab another bottle or two, it was *divine*  
@Quince: ^^ for reference

“Son of a—” Tora had pressed “download” on a photo Quincey had sent as well, but nearly dropped his phone in his haste to close out of the picture which had clearly been a very naked Quincey posing for the camera in what had looked like his penthouse’s bathroom mirror. “Stupid motherfuckin—,” Tora muttered as he scrolled through the rest of the messages, rolling his eyes at Quincey’s panic, having realized his mistake.

@Quince: DO NOT OPEN THAT  
@Quince: OH MY GOD DO NOT OPEN THAT  
@Quince: I meant to send you this ^

@Quince: Don’t worry, I double checked it’s the wine.

Tora hesitated a moment, glanced up and down the empty boulevard, then opened the second photo. He cupped his left hand around the screen just in case, but luckily it was, in fact, a photo of an empty bottle. Quincey had grasped it in his hand with the camera aimed down from chest height above what looked like the marble tiles of his kitchen floor, the bottom of the bottle resting against his belt. _Fuck, why’d he have to hold it like a fuckin’ cock?_ Tora rolled his eyes again—Quincey, ever the romance writer, couldn’t resist an innuendo, somehow even without words.

@Quince: and there’s a new Cab from that vineyard in Napa I like, the one with the suns in the name. I don’t remember.  
@Quince: The staff will know though.

Tora leaned his head back. _Fan-fuckin’-tastic._ Just what he wanted to do: talk to the staff. His phone buzzed again.

@Quince: Tora, they’re closing soon—you get everything?

@Tora: on it

He pushed off the car and headed into the shop, schooling his face into an unreadable mask, his lips slightly turned down, to cover the anxiety and anger balled together in his stomach. He tugged his black baseball cap lower and grabbed a basket from beside the entrance while opening his phone to the list Quincey had texted him earlier. He quickly gathered four of the bottles as requested, laying them down flat in the basket before pulling out his phone to snap a picture of the shelf in front of him. He sent it off to Quincey asking whether any of the bottles in front of him looked like the sun wine. It wasn’t long before Tora got a reply.

@Quince: Ooooh, yes! Love this new system.  
@Quince: But no, I don’t see it.  
@Quince: Oh, grab one of the ’02 sauvignon blancs.

Tora frowned at his screen and looked back at the shelves. Most of the bottles were scrawled in fancy French script with words he couldn’t fuckin’ read, how in the fuck was he supposed to tell which one Quincey wanted?

@Tora: the what

@Quince: It’s the white label with the grapes.

Tora rolled his eyes and took a steadying breath. His fingers twitched around the basket handle, itching for the near-empty carton of a cigarettes in his jeans pocket.

@Tora: they all got fuckin grapes

@Quince: Ah, I see that now. (Calm down, my bad!) Second shelf, two from the left.  
@Quince: And send me more pics, I’ll know the sun bottle as soon as I see it. Plus I want to see what else piques my interest.

Tora sighed, pocketing his phone and rubbing a hand down his face, this was gonna take a while. He turned to the clerk standing behind the register who quickly blinked away from Tora as soon as he’d turned around. “Oi,” he waited for the clerk to acknowledge him—Tora could see his name tag read “Max” in red curly font. “Max. You got juice?”

Max’s eyes widened imperceptibly at the large man who, rather than wanting hard liquor, was looking for the sugary cocktail mixes. He pointed down an aisle towards the back of the store and watched as Tora made his way, skimming the shelves until he found what he was looking for: a four pack of strawberry juice packaged in single-serve 8 oz. glass bottles, guaranteed to be overpriced. _Fuck it,_ he thought, grabbing one from the package and setting the remaining three in his basket atop the wine. As he twisted the cap off, he glanced back at Max.

“Oh, uh. Sir…” The clerk’s voice died to a whisper as Tora held his gaze. Lifting the bottle to his lips, he took a slow sip of the sweet liquid. _Damn_ , he could tell this was the good shit, too, maybe even worth the gratuitous upcharge. None of those artificial sweeteners Quincey loved so much for his own drinks, and none of that bubbly shit.

Only when he’d polished off half of it did Tora lower the bottle from his lips, still holding the clerk’s eyes from across the store. “Yeah, Max?”

Max shook his head, letting out a slightly strangled noise Tora thought might have been “never mind.”

He turned back to the shelf, setting the basket on the floor and pulling out his phone again to take another picture a bit further down the aisle. He sent it to Quincey just as he heard loud banging at the front of the store. Tora whipped around, legs splayed and arms half raised to a fighting stance, one hand fisted around the bottle and the other gripping his phone, when he saw what the source of the commotion was. Max was quickly hurrying around the counter to meet a short young woman at door who had pushing quite fiercely and repeatedly against the glass door clearly marked PULL. Max gestured wordlessly to the sign from the other side of the door before gently pushing on it enough for the woman to grab the handle and pull it the rest of the way open.

Tora’s phone buzzed in his hand which was still raised to his chest and, with great effort, he tore his eyes away from the woman to read the message from Quincey who had asked for “the bottle with the black and blue swirlies—you’ll see it” along with a request for another picture. He grabbed a random bottle off the shelf without checking for any _swirlies_ and used his foot to scoot the basket a little further down the aisle, quickly snapping another picture of the shelves so he could focus on whatever the hell was happening at the front counter. Max was standing in front of the woman as she struggled to pull her ID from the front pocket of her shorts. He couldn’t get a good look at her around the clerk—she was so damn short—but from what he could see she looked like a goddamned angel stepped straight out of the darkness of the city street. Her light brown hair fell in two loose braids down to her shoulders, spilling over a bright pink sweater that had bold letters he couldn’t make out across the chest. Her chest. Tora felt the tips of his ears warm, realizing even such a baggy sweater couldn’t hide the swell of her tits or the way her hips blossomed out from her waist. He wondered what she looked like from behind, if he moved subtlety to the left he could catch her reflection in the door— _no. Stop that shit, ya fuckin’ creep_. She was clearly younger than him, probably much younger if the clerk had felt the need to card her at the fuckin’ door. And she looked like the picture of innocence, not a person he should ever be allowed near. He watched as Max begrudgingly handed her ID back and she huffed “told you” none too softly.

Tora’s phone buzzed again and he was grateful for the excuse to look back down, just as her voice rang out across the store, “Sir, I’ll take the biggest wine you have.” Tora’s head shot back up toward the front—it was already unusual to see someone dressed as informally as this woman was in the store, but buying wine by volume? Here? _Fuckin’ ballsy_ , he had to repress a snort as Max stared back in barely concealed horror.

“Ma’am, did you say the—the biggest…wine?”

“Yes,” she nodded emphatically while glancing down each of the aisles, “preferably a bag. You know,” she gestured with an open palm while walking closer to the aisle where Tora stood trying desperately to appear engrossed in the products on the shelf while continuing to glance toward the front of the store. He tugged the brim of his hat down slightly and met Max’s bewildered eyes for a moment. “You know,” the woman turned to see where Max was looking and found Tora’s eyes, smiling before turning back to the counter, “the bags with handles. Like three bottles for the price of one?”

Tora only half-heard Max’s reply (“you mean a box? A box of wine?”)—he realized he was staring openly at her before he quickly turned back to the shelves in front of him. She’d seen him and smiled. _Smiled_ at the man who towered over the shelves in the store, who’d been watching her from under a baseball cap, whose fitted black t-shirt did little to hide the vibrant peonies and koi fish that circled the length of his arms. Tora was suddenly very aware of his heartbeat—had it always been this loud?

His phone buzzed and he nearly dropped the strawberry juice from his other hand. _Fuckin’ Quince_ …he could feel his jaw tense in frustration at the man who should have just come to the store himself.

@Quince: Still don’t see the sun one. Nothing good in this pic, send another.

@Quince: Did you send it? I didn’t get anything.

Tora rolled his eyes and quickly snapped two more pictures of the shelves, sending them off to Quincey.

@Tora: the fuck didnt ya just come yaself, dont know wtf im lookin at

He glanced back to the front, but the woman had disappeared. _Well shit,_ he thought dejectedly. Maybe it was for the best that she had left. He couldn’t help but wonder about her, though. He knew he’d be thinking about her smile for days, weeks even. The way her cheeks were tinged a soft pink, several shades lighter than her sweater. He felt the corners of the lips pull up and took another swig of juice. His phone buzzed again, and he glanced down.

@Quince: Oooh multiples, yay! This works even better. Maybe you can try a panoramic next time.  
@Quince: Still no sun though…

Tora sighed, he’d probably have to ask the clerk after all.

@Quince: Who’s the cutie?

Tora’s head whipped up. On the other side of the shelves against the wall, the woman was standing with her back to him, her head angled so far back that Tora could see the crown of her head parted neatly into her braids. She reached up on her tip toes and extended her arms as high as she could, wiggling her outstretched fingers at what Tora could see was a very small selection of boxed wine. He couldn’t help but snort at the way she teetered back and forth trying to reach the shelf that even _he_ would need to stretch for—though just slightly.

At his muffled laugh, she turned around, bracing herself against one of the shelves on the wall to save her balance. She met his gaze and, on recognizing him from when she’d first entered the store, her face split into a grin that was somehow even wider than before. Tora knew he’d remember this moment, her face in this moment, for the rest of his life. He’d thought her first smile was memorable, but it had nothing on the way she glowed up at him from the adjacent aisle. _Fuck Quincey’s bottle_ , he thought, she _was the fuckin’ sun_.

“Hey,” she stepped closer to the shelf that separated their aisles. It took Tora a second to realize that this woman was indeed addressing him. How was she so comfortable talking to him? He also realized his mouth had been open—he quickly pocketed his phone, rubbing a hand along his jaw to hopefully distract from the fact that he’d been staring so openly. “You’re tall.”

 _I’m…tall,_ he wondered, _that’s what she noticed_? “Oh yeah?” He leaned an elbow on the top shelf between them, moving closer and straightening his back slightly so as to look even taller, “nothing gets past ya, sweetheart.”

He noted the way her cheeks deepened in blush as her smile turned into a playful scowl, her lips pouting and one brow raised. _A dare?_ How far could he take this? “Havin’ trouble reachin’?” He let his eyes drag down her frame, slow so she’d see him taking her in. He bit the inside of his mouth to keep from barking out a laugh at the words on her sweater which he was close enough to read now: why can’t someone else just do it. _Oh, she’s somethin’ else_.

She crossed her arms and leaned to one of her hips, blushing somehow deeper from his gaze on her chest, “not everyone’s six feet tall, you know.”

“Six and three inches,” he quipped, bending down to grab the basket at his feet.

“Six feet _and_ three inches tall?” she gasped, unfolding one of her arms and placing a palm against her chest, “what an accomplishment. You must be very proud of yourself.”

At that, Tora stood up like she’d just driven a rod down his spine. He looked back over at the woman, hearing her soft _pfft, pffts_ from behind one of her hands. He glanced back down at her chest, where he could once again read the words after she’d unfolded her arms. “Cute shirt.” He turned and began walking down the aisle toward the back of the store, feeling his phone buzz in his back pocket. Shit, Quincey would have to wait—he was having too much fun with this girl.

“Hey, where’re you going?” she made to follow him down her own aisle before he turned the corner and started walking back towards her, placing his basket at their feet. She breathed a soft “oh” as he stood back up and faced her. “Looked like ya needed some help,” he smirked, “maybe a lift?” he motioned with his arms as he might if he were to pick her up from the waist and her eyes widened.

She turned from him and pointed at the top shelf towards one of the boxes, “I just wanted the red one.” As she stretched to get as close to the box as possible, Tora noticed a tattoo peeking out from her shorts along the thigh closest to him. _Well shit, sweetheart,_ he thought, _ya full of surprises_. He wondered what the design was—couldn’t tell from the angle and the way her shorts covered most of it. He considered asking about it but thought better of it just as he was about to make a comment. It’d be weird for her, he was sure, weird and gross of him—a total stranger in a liquor store just before midnight, no less—for him to talk about her fuckin’ thigh. _Fuck’s sake—_

He turned to reach for the box with his free hand, “ya care what kind?”

“I don’t know,” when he glanced down at her, he noticed her eyes roaming up and down his arms. Normally he hated the way women stared at him. Tora despised being the object of attention, his inner feelings directly at odds with his external stature, his larger-than-life presence. Besides, most of the women he’d encountered only wanted one thing. But this girl, she was looking at him with open curiosity, not untamed lust, though he couldn’t deny he liked the way the blush had spread to her ears. “Dene said to get red.”

 _Dean?_ Tora frowned, quickly looking back up at the box closest to his hand. _Who the hell was Dean_? He felt his jaw twitch. _And why the fuck did he care?_ “Well shit, sweetheart, I don’t drink and even _I_ know there’s a bunch of different kinds of red.” He grabbed the box and brought it down to his side, a light shower of dust fell softly onto his hat and her hair. “Hell,” he smirked, “I bet ya we could find one to match those cheeks.”

Her bottom lip fell open and she moved to smack his upper arm. Tora could see the half-hearted blow coming, though, and blocked her hand easily with his own raised arm, box of wine extended gingerly toward her. “Just teasin’ ya,” the corner of his mouth pulled up as she glanced down at the box, seemingly surprised at how it’d materialized in front of her. “You don’t drink?” she asked a couple seconds later, glancing back up at him. “How’d you end up here of all places?” she raised her eyebrow and as she grabbed the handle of the box from his loose grip, her fingers brushed his. For a moment, Tora let himself imagine what it might be like to hold her hand—her fingers were so soft and warm, gentle as she took the box from him.

“Long story.” He stared down at her hand, somehow already missing the feel of her. _Who was this woman?_

“Hey, thanks,” she said.

He grunted, nodding his head once as he took a last swig of strawberry juice, needing to look anywhere but into her eyes which had suddenly locked onto his own. This close up, he could see the rise and fall of her chest, the skin on her throat move as she swallowed once, then again. The edges of her big, brown eyes were rimmed pink—had she been crying earlier tonight? Was it that fuckin’ Dean? Before he could swallow the last gulp of juice, he felt her collide against his abdomen and he accidentally bit down on his tongue in an effort to keep the sugary liquid from spraying out of his mouth and onto the top of her perfect braids. She pulled him tight against her, wrapping her arms as far as she could reach around his waist. Tora kept his arms raised slightly, one hand still gripping the empty bottle, the other hovering slightly up and away from her shoulder. He wanted nothing more than to circle his own arms around her, pick her up maybe and carry her to his car still visible through the store’s front windows. She smelled like heaven, her hair scented like something sweet mixed with fresh laundry. He could feel his pants tighten at the warmth of her tits mashed against his torso, could feel their every movement as she breathed against him. Was she even wearing a bra? _Shit_. He kept his arms suspended like a sad marionette strung from the ceiling as he tried to angle his hips discreetly away from her body.

He felt his phone buzz once then two more times just as Max peeked his head down the aisle, “um, excuse me, sir? Ma’am?” Tora didn’t know whether to thank or kill the kid as the woman gently pulled herself away from him to look at the clerk. “We closed a couple minutes ago, so…if you could bring your purchases to the front…” he trailed off as he looked again at Tora, who had settled his face somewhere closer to kill than thank.

“Oh, of course—I’m so sorry,” the woman made to follow Max toward the front but paused to wait as Tora picked up his basket from the floor. When they got to the counter, she turned to Tora gesturing for him to go first, “you have more stuff,” she shrugged with a smile.

“Ya know it’s usually the other way around,” he smirked as he unloaded the basket. The clerk began scanning and bagging the bottles Tora had picked for Quincey. Seeing a cup full of pens and markers by the register, he pointed at the box of wine in her arms and held his hand out. She delicate brows pulled together in confusion, as he wrapped two fingers around the handle and eased the wine from her hands, holding it out over the counter for the clerk to scan.

“Hey…I was going to pay for that,” she began before trailing off, “what are you…” She watched as Tora grabbed a black pen from the cup and scribbled his number on the side of the box. She peered over his arm as he wrote his name, “Tor?”

“A.” He emphasized the last letter as he marked it on the box, “Tora.”

“Tora,” she repeated, seeming to weigh his name on her tongue.

He froze, pen accidentally making a stray mark on his hand as he missed the cap, breath caught in his throat. He needed, with every fiber of his being, he _needed_ his name on her lips again. Even just once. He arranged his face into a smirk, putting as much smolder in his eyes as he knew he could. He angled his chin down and glanced up at her through his lashes, using the end of the pen to point at his number as he handed her the box back, “ya hotline to a lethal weapon.”

 _Pfft, pfft_ , she giggled, reaching up to squeeze the bicep closest to her, “nice guns, _pfft._ ” It definitely wasn’t the reaction he’d been hoping for, but he’d enjoyed the brief touch of her hand on his arm. And it was comforting in a weird way, he thought, that this mysterious woman resisted his advances, so opposite from all his other encounters with women. He’d never actively pursued someone before. “But really—” all of a sudden, the chorus of the Bee Gees’ “Stayin’ Alive” cut through the silence of the shop and the steady beeps from the register as Max had continued to scan items slowly, not wanting to upset Tora again. The man clearly wanted to spend more time with this strange woman. The woman squeaked and grabbed at her back pocket, pulling out her phone and quickly accepting the call, “sorry,” she mouthed to him, half-turning from the register.

“Sir, you can insert your card into the chip reader when you’re ready,” Max pointed gently toward the device on the counter as Tora fished out a card from his wallet, catching bits of the woman’s whispered conversation.

“Well, I answered, right? So, I must be alive.”

Tora inserted his card and accepted the total—scrolling through the itemized list, he almost laughed at how expensive the juice had turned out to be. _Worth it_.

“You could say that,” the woman had turned back to Tora, lightly swinging the box of wine and gripping the phone to her ear in the other. She smiled at him. _Fuck_ , would his heart ever stop doing that? She glanced up and away off into the space beyond his shoulder and rolled her eyes, “jeez, chill—I’m on my way with the vino.”

From his peripherals, Tora watched Max cringe at her use of “vino” and almost snorted. There was no doubt about it: he liked this chick. She didn’t give a shit about what anyone else thought and she hadn’t judged him for his intimidating appearance. She’d fuckin’ _hugged_ him, for fuck’s sake.

“Mmkay, Dene. Hang in there, I’m on my way.” _Dean_. Tora gritted his teeth to keep his face neutral. He’d find this motherfucker, maybe Gyu could help. Hell, Gyu could find anyone. “Hey,” her hand on his cheek pulled him from his thoughts and he inhaled sharply at her sudden proximity. “Thanks for the help,” her index finger and thumb lightly ran the outline of his jaw as she let her hand fall back to her side, “Tora.” She turned and walked to the door turning back slightly to smile at him before she grabbed the handle and tugged gently. When the door didn’t budge, she tried again.

“Ma’am, ma’am,” the clerk sighed as he gestured toward the large PUSH sign. “You pull to get in and push to get out,” he said. Her blush radiated down her neck and Tora couldn’t help but smile. She was too stinkin’ cute.

*

A couple minutes later, as he made his way to the car with two large brown bags full of wine tucked under one arm, Tora opened the messages on his phone.

@Quince: Well? You saw who I was talking about, right? She’s in the background of the last photo you sent.

@Quince: Toraaaa, don’t leave me hanging!  
@Quince: You better be fucking dead.

@Quince: Tora, please tell me you got her name.

Well, shit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 3: Poppy needs a drink...ing buddy???


	3. A Gyu Special

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Poppy's had a rough start to her week, an impossible assignment looming. She decides to meet Erdene for a drink at Chevy's to unwind...if only her friend weren't so late...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Your comments bring me so much joy, thank you for reading!! Did I mention this is a slooooow burn? But we'll get there, I promise hehe
> 
> I haven't written fanfiction in so so long, but this wonderful community has really inspired me to pick it up again!
> 
> Characters belong to the real MVP Lilydusk, brilliant creator of Midnight Poppy Land. Support her on Patreon! https://www.patreon.com/lilydusk

**Chapter 3**

Poppy gazed up at the sleek restaurant and bar she’d just arrived in front of and wondered what Erdene had been thinking recommending this place. She supposed the brick exterior was meant to give it a rustic feel, but the black sign hanging above the door with the name _Chevy’s_ scrolled in gold elevated the feel of the establishment to something much more upscale than Poppy would ever normally frequent. _Chevy’s_ , she thought, _why did that name sound familiar?_ She sighed, closing her eyes and shaking her head slightly—this was the place Erdene had raved about after her date with the Pinky. Either the man had paid for everything or her friend hadn’t bothered to look at the prices, being affluent enough not to have to worry about spending a hefty chunk of her paycheck on overpriced cocktails. Poppy’d just wanted to grab a drink after work, after all, without breaking the bank. She would have been happy with their normal hole-in-the-wall bar located in the basement level of the building next to their workplace, Giant Goldfish Publishing. That way she could’ve dressed down, too, maybe they could have even bowled a couple rounds with their other coworker, Jacob. She really needed to unwind for a night—just one—and then she’d get back to work on her impossible assignment. She gasped when she realized her hand had moved to scratch at her shoulder subconsciously, the itch from her healing tattoo agitated by the cotton blend of her blazer against her bare shoulder. She’d need to reapply the ointment Erdene had given her, and soon.

“Now, Poppy, I need you to listen to this: as much as you’re gonna want to, do not scratch it,” Cable had warned. She’d looked up at him in confusion from where she’d been admiring the finished product in the shop’s floor-length mirror.

“Why would I want to?” she asked, glancing back to the shiny skin, a bit raw around the edges of the tattoo, but between all the beautiful shades of red ink, it was nearly impossible to tell where her skin was just angry from the needle and where Cable had expertly deposited color. Erdene laughed from the front of the shop, where she’d been using her tablet to design a couple mock-ups for the company’s latest zine cover for the past hour and a half.

“As it heals, some of the skin is gonna peel away,” he explained, walking her away from the mirror and back to his workstation, squirting some solution from a bottle onto a fresh paper towel. “It’s like having dry skin in the dead of winter—imagine the driest of the dry. But worse.” He gripped her arm in a gentle but firm hold as he wiped the saturated paper towel over her shoulder. “You’re gonna want to itch it, more than anything,” Cable continued as he swabbed some ointment on his gloved index and swiped it over her shoulder in firm circles before looking up at her. “Don’t.”

Despite the elated feeling she’d had all through the weekend after getting her tattoo, it’d turned out to be a doozy of a week at work. Poppy’s report had been due on Monday, but since the breakup with Julri on Friday, she’d spent most of the weekend with Erdene trying to push all thoughts of her ex from her mind rather than polishing the draft she’d finished before leaving for Moonbright. Poppy knew the work she’d turned in hadn’t been her best, and Gil’s puckered face as he’d read her piece had all but confirmed it. Determined to redeem herself and prove that, even as a fresh graduate with no experience, she could pull her own weight as an editor at the start-up publisher, she’d volunteered immediately for the tough task their editor-in-chief had gathered them in the conference room to discuss.

*

“So, team,” Gil had entered the small, gray room rubbing his hands together before slapping them down at the head of the table, still standing as he leaned toward Jacob, Erdene, and Poppy who had been chatting lightly about the covers Erdene had mocked up over the weekend. He took a moment to remove his hair tie, collecting the loose brown strands around his face and pulling his shoulder-length mop back into a low pony that hung down his blue cardigan. “I just got word from a potential big investor who’s willing to give us a trial run,” he smiled, but between his sallow complexion and the purple tinge beneath the thin skin around his eyes, it looked more like a grimace to Poppy.

“And the conditions?” Erdene piped up from her seat nestled between Jacob and Poppy. “Seems like a _trial_ would come with strings.”

“Right you are, Erdene,” Gil sighed as he finally sank into the chair at the head of the table, spinning slightly so that he faced the side where his employees all sat in a row. “Mr. Lam has a very special project in mind and it’s quite a…” Gil paused, carefully considering his choice in words, “…sentimental piece,” he continued, “very close to his heart.”

Poppy glanced at Jacob who sat closest to their boss. He shrugged ever so slightly, his eyes flicking back to Gil. Clearly, this was news to Jacob, too, despite being a more senior editor at the publishing house than Poppy. She shook her head slightly, _that’s ridiculous, Poppylan_ , she thought. _You’re an editor, too, no less important than anyone else on the team_. Still, she found a needling sense of self-doubt in most of the projects she’d taken on in the few months she’s been at Giant Goldfish. She was well aware that the only reason Gil had given her a chance was because of Erdene’s glowing recommendation. Even her letters of recommendation from her college professors hadn’t meant much without any real-world experience, but she needed a job to gain real-world experience. It was a vicious cycle Poppy had become all too familiar with while living with Julri in Moonbright until the day she’d gotten the call back for an interview with Gil.

“I can do it.” The words had blurted from Poppy’s mouth before she’d even realized it.

Three pairs of eyes turned to stare at her. Jacob’s mouth hung open, and she could tell Erdene was smiling at her, but Poppy kept her eyes on Gil who had leaned back further in his chair, pressing his fingertips together under his nose, elbows perched on his armrests. “Poppylan, you haven’t even heard what the project entails.” He seemed genuinely concerned. Poppy wondered if he was questioning her sense of judgement.

There was no backing out now, she needed to prove herself as an asset and as someone who followed through. “I’m confident that whatever the project is, I’ll be able to handle it.” She kept her gaze trained on Gil’s, determined not to break eye contact. “I work really well with people, and I know my ability to empathize will help me in executing Mr. Lam’s artistic vision, whatever that may be for his project.”

For several moments, the only sounds that could be heard in the room were the faint echoes of car horns from the streets below and the quiet tapping of the pigeon they’d named Pudge which had taken to roosting along the window ledge outside Poppy’s cubicle.

“You’re sure about this?” Gil peered at her over his fingers.

Poppy allowed herself to glance at Erdene who she could see was giving her a thumbs up below the lip of the table. She smiled, “absolutely.”

*

Moments later she had learned the task at hand: Mr. Lam needed a ghostwriter to finish his late wife’s memoir—indeed, a sentimental project. But the potential investor wouldn’t settle for just _any_ writer. He wanted the world-famous, highly sought-after romance novelist Q.B. Noyouko. An impossible task, as Poppy had no connections with the notoriously private writer and no ideas on where to start. She guessed that’s where some “real-world experience” would come in handy, but when she’d asked him, even Jacob had come up empty on advice.

Poppy peered through the glass on Chevy’s front doors and could see an opulent lobby separating the more formal sit-down area of the restaurant from the not-much-less formal space near the bar where there seemed to be a smattering of booths and low tables meant for lounging and sipping cocktails. She sighed and gripped the thin black strap of her crossbody purse a little tighter. There was no use just staring up at Chevy’s brick façade, _may as well get a head start before Dene shows up_. Erdene had been held up in a consultation with a finnicky client, having texted Poppy several times already variations on “gonna be another 30, smdh.” At this rate, Poppy would be standing outside for a couple hours if she didn’t head in.

She stepped into the lobby and caught sight of her reflection in one of the gold elevator doors across from her, and she couldn’t help but smile. Even Jacob had complimented her fashion choice today: she’d worn her hair in a French braid, thinking it complimented the feel of the floral blazer over her simple white tank top and the black skirt that hugged her hips in a flattering heart-shaped silhouette. She wished the skirt was a bit longer—sometimes if she wasn’t too careful it rode up her thighs and she’d either need to stand or wiggle (somewhat unprofessionally) in her seat to tug it back down. On any other week, the length probably wouldn’t have bothered her so much, but the fake strawberry tattoo with the goofy face somehow still clung to the pores of her thigh no matter how much scrubbing or exfoliating she did in the shower. Whenever the skirt rode up, the fake tattoo peered out at anyone who happened to glance down. _Never again_ , she thought back to four nights ago when Erdene had sprayed her leg down with cheap drugstore perfume that smelled sickeningly of fresh linen.

As she approached the bar, a man greeted her from behind the counter. He had a kind face, she thought. His small dark goatee gave him a boyish look paired with his lean frame. He brushed a curl of reddish-brown hair from his face and smiled at her as Poppy took a seat at the left end of the bar closest to the booths.

“Hiya, miss,” he grabbed a sleek black coaster off a stack on the counter behind him along with a thin drinks menu and slid it in front of her, “what can I get you?”

“Mmm,” she bit her bottom lip as she flipped open the booklet. She bit down harder trying to keep the worry off her face as she took in the prices. Everything cost at least four bus rides—much more than she could responsibly afford unless she only ordered one drink the entire night. She glanced back up at the man who could see, despite her best efforts to school her expression, that nothing on the menu had struck her fancy. She leaned in slightly as a couple more people settled into the tables behind her and lowered her voice, “what’s the cheapest thing you have?”

The bartender smiled wider, “I’ve got just the thing,” he said as he quickly turned around and pulled down a couple bottles from the wall behind him. It only seemed like a couple seconds before he was straining a drink over a chilled glass. “I call it a Gyu special,” he said as he set the glass down on her coaster.

“A…what?” Poppy picked up the delicate spiral of lime he’d speared with a metal skewer as she smelled the drink. _Faintly sweet, a little citrus. Smells like a—_

“It’s a daiquiri, but classic. None of that slushie stuff,” he pulled an arm up to hold the back of his neck sheepishly, “on the house—hence the name,” he laughed lightly, but Poppy must have still looked a bit confused because he stuttered, “oh—oh my n-name is Gyu.”

 _He’s cute_ , Poppy considered, but quickly realized that he’d probably just taken pity on her. What was one drink offered for free in an establishment like this. “A Gyu special, huh? Nice to meet you, Mr. Special,” she smiled back at him, trying to quell his nervousness with her own relaxed body language. “I’m Poppylan, but my friends call me Poppy,” she leaned down to sip the cocktail. “Whoa,” she looked back up at him, “you’re really good at this!”

“Well thanks, Poppy,” he laughed, blushing slightly, and swung a towel from his waist to wipe up the ledge of the back bar.

Poppy took a moment to glance around the room. A handful of stylish men in matching black suits had taken over the corner lounge area towards the other end of the bar.

“Say, do I know you from somewhere?” When Poppy turned back to Gyu, he was squinting at her in concentration, a slight frown on his face as he scratched his goatee. “You look awfully familiar.”

She leaned back for a second, taking in his appearance again. She was certain she’d never met the man before, “no, I don’t think so. Plus, I’m pretty sure I’d remember those. Nice tattoos,” she nodded toward his arms where she could see two cherries and a half-closed umbrella on either bicep.

“Ah, thanks,” he looked a little embarrassed, his cheeks tinged slightly pink. “These are nothing, though. I’ve got a friend who’s covered and it’s badass.” He seemed to think for a second, “I mean, _he’s_ badass,” he said as he removed some glasses from the washer to dry. “Course, he’s also built like a tank, which definitely helps maintain that level of macho, if you know what I mean,” he finished. He sounded almost in awe, Poppy thought.

“Hmm,” she nodded absent-mindedly as she sipped her drink. Hearing Gyu describe his hunky friend reminded Poppy of the burly man she’d met on Friday. There’d hardly been a moment over the past several days when her thoughts hadn’t drifted to Tora. _Tora_ , she smiled to herself against the rim of the glass. She liked the feel of his name in her mouth, liked his presence in her head. Whenever she thought of him, she could remember the warmth of his body from when she’d plastered herself to his torso— _you were quite forward, weren’t you_ , she blushed at the memory. _He’s probably not even interested. A man like him wouldn’t look twice at her._ But he’d given her his number, she remembered, that had to count for something. She’d meant to save it in her phone but had forgotten as she and Erdene drank most of the box when she’d returned from her run to the fancy liquor store. And then Saturday had come and Erdene had whisked her out the door first to brunch (“it’s important to eat before you get a tattoo, Poppy. Trust.”) and then to Cable’s shop where they had spent much of the rest of the day. That night, they’d hung out at Poppy’s apartment watching a new rom com they’d both been waiting to see before falling asleep practically on top of each other in Poppy’s small bed. Poppy hadn’t gotten a chance to go back to Erdene’s place to get Tora’s number from where he’d scrawled it on the box. _I could text her_ , she’d thought many times how easy, how darn simple it would be to just ask Erdene to send her the number, but something held her back. Erdene wasn’t aware of the markings, otherwise she would’ve grilled Poppy immediately, demanding to know who this tiger was who’d given her his number. But Poppy wasn’t ready to share him yet, share what she’d hoped were mutual sparks.

She remembered the moment he’d leaned from the counter to hand her the box of wine, the tendons in his forearm flexing like cables under his tattoos. It’d looked like the koi were swimming across his skin with every lithe movement of his fingers. His gaze, amber eyes shining under hooded lashes, had _done things_ to her when she’d finally looked up to meet his eyes. She’d felt wet heat between her thighs when he’d delivered a line clearly meant to unravel her. _A lethal weapon_. His open desire— _no, it couldn’t be that_ —whatever she’d seen in his eyes had cut through the pleasant rosé-induced fog that had made her feel like she was wading through water since she’d left Erdene’s apartment. In its place she was suddenly self-conscious, acutely aware of the clerk’s nervous presence and the fact that she’d neglected to put her bra back on after shucking it across Erdene’s living room, whooping in excitement at finally being able to breathe deeply. And this god of a man was offering her… _what exactly?_

She’d felt the need to protect herself then, could not let this stranger see exactly the effect he had on her. She couldn’t trust her body not to lunge at him as she took the box from his outstretched hand. She couldn’t bear the thought of being made a fool again—there was no way she was reading the situation right. She’d laughed then to settle the tension she felt in her lower belly, softly reaching up to grasp one of his biceps, joking lightly about his “guns” and trying to ignore the way his arm felt like velvet over steel. Had his smile faltered?

Poppy was pulled from her thoughts by a slightly higher-pitched voice than her memory of Tora’s, “You got any?” Gyu motioned towards the dangling cherries on his arm. “I mean tattoos,” he clarified.

Poppy caught herself as she nearly said no, quickly sitting up in excitement as she remembered how she’d spent her Saturday. She leaned forward, grinning across the bar as she shared this secret with someone for the first time, besides Erdene and Cable: “I actually got my first one over the weekend,” she gestured with her head toward her shoulder. “But it itches _so_ bad. My friend Dene told me I shouldn’t scratch it, so I’ve been wearing long sleeves to stop myself from accidentally itching. How’d you deal with it?” she asked. “Did you just wear long sleeves until they healed?”

Gyu chuckled, “no, I usually just slap ‘em,” he said.

“Slap them?”

“Yeah, you know, like a mosquito bite,” Gyu mimed slapping the cherries on his arm in a series of fast, light taps.

Poppy watched in amusement as she took another sip of her drink. “Does that actually help?”

Gyu shrugged. “I mean, not really. Once that first layer of skin flakes off and heals over though, you’re in the clear.” He seemed to consider again before saying, “mine are pretty small, though, so it really wasn’t so bad. You should ask my friend about his—he’s coming by in a little to pick something up.” Gyu turned around to grab some of the coasters from the counter and a small stack of menus. “He might have some better suggestions. But hey, Poppy, it looks like things are picking up here. If you’re all set, I’m gonna go take some orders,” he looked at her for a confirmation before walking back toward the other end of the bar where the men in the suits turned to greet him. “Give me a wave if you need anything,” he called over his shoulder.

 _He seems fun_ , Poppy chuckled to herself as she gingerly removed her blazer, taking care not to snag any of her peeling tattoo on the abrasive cotton fibers, and laid it on the empty barstool to her right. She brought her hand to her shoulder and lightly smacked the skin a few times, pleasantly surprised that the man’s tip actually worked, at least for a couple seconds. But the itch seemed to return in even greater intensity at the withheld promise of a scratch. _You didn’t mention_ that _, Gyu,_ she thought wryly. Poppy turned to inspect it—or at least what she could see of the healing piece—when she felt a hand slide from her left shoulder down to the dip of her back.

“You drinking alone, darling?”

Poppy whipped her head to her left at the sound of the stranger’s voice. A middle-aged man, maybe late 40s, with gray flecks in his cropped dark brown hair sat down to her left, his hand returning slowly to rest on his knee, before bringing it up again to circle the wrist of the hand holding her drink on the bar top. “Let’s see, bet you I can name your drink just by smell,” he brought her hand up to his face, still clutching the drink, and inhaled deeply, eyes skimming from her face down the slope of her back. “Mmm,” he sighed. “I think I know—how about this, if I guess right, let me buy you another?”

And Poppy thought _she_ had been forward last night for hugging Tora in thanks. This man with his hand wrapped around her wrist, though, was the very definition of too much too fast. “Um,” she began before he cut her off again.

“It’s definitely a daiquiri,” he said. _It’s actually a Gyu special_ , Poppy bit down on her cheeky response. The man was just being nice, arrogant, sure, but maybe it was just his personality. He seemed to take her silence as confirmation and waved Gyu down from the hushed conversation he was having with the men in the suits. They seemed tense, but the stranger with his hand around her wrist either didn’t notice or didn’t care. “Can we get another one for the lady, Miss…” he turned to her expectantly.

“Oh, um. Poppylan.”

He smiled and glanced back at Gyu, still holding her wrist to his face, “for Miss Poppylan here. And I’ll take a Scotch, neat,” he finished. “Poppylan, huh, what an unusual name. Can I call you Pops?” he asked. _No._

Gyu waved a palm at the men in suits wordlessly as if to say _hold on_ , before he hurried back around the bar to grab their drinks.

“So, I can’t say I’ve ever seen you here before, Pops. You come here often?” The man released her wrist and Poppy immediately put the drink back down on the bar top. _Why hasn’t he introduced himself yet,_ she wondered.

“Um, no not really. I’m meeting a friend,” she gave him a quick smile and finished the rest of her drink in a gulp, just as Gyu set a fresh one down in front of her. He held her gaze as he slid the glass toward her, cocking an eyebrow. She smiled at him, trying to convey her thanks in a look, a warm bubble of relief nestled in the back of her throat knowing the bartender had picked up on her discomfort. She had a feeling deep in her gut that Gyu, who’d turned out to be surprisingly perceptive, would have her back if she needed to assert her boundaries. “Thank you,” she told him, letting her fingers graze his as she took the glass from him.

“You got it,” Gyu answered with a solemn nod, sliding the glass with scotch toward the man beside her. “You need anything,” he glanced back at Poppy, “holler.”

She nodded as Gyu took the black credit card the man had exchanged for the scotch. “Open a tab for me, would you,” he said to Gyu who nodded and turned to the computer behind him. “So,” he turned back to Poppy, seemingly unaware of the silent conversation she’d just had with the bartender, “you’re waiting for a friend. She as sweet as you?”

Poppy nearly choked from the sip she’d taken. The man laughed, reaching around to pat her lightly on the back a couple of times, “sorry, darling—am I being too brazen? I’ll tone it down,” he chuckled around the rim of his glass. “You know,” he said glancing somewhere along her upper back, “I’m all for body art, but it seems like yours might be falling off.” He pointed to her shoulder furthest from him, where he could probably see a fraction of the tattoo from where it touched her scapula. Poppy must have looked confused, she could feel her brows knitted together and her mouth had fallen partly open, drink paused halfway back down from her mouth. “My daughter gets one from her dentist every time she gets a cleaning,” he explained, much to Poppy’s deepening confusion. She pulled her brows even further down to her bridge of her nose, tilting her head to the side, but it seemed like the man mistook her expression for dismay. “I know, I know. _He’s got a kid?”_ He ducked his head a bit sheepishly, “but hey, being a dad has taught me that if you put some water on the edges, it’ll lie flat again,” he said, nodding toward her tattoo.

It took Poppy a couple seconds to make sense of what he’d just said. _He thought her tattoo…was a stick on?_ _Did it really look that horrible?_ She turned away from him to glance down at her shoulder—he was right, from what she could see. She’d need to apply some more ointment—bits of her skin that had flaked from her body hung to the edges of the tattoo like a sad, fraying imitation of the beautiful piece Cable had deftly sketched with sharpies onto her skin.

“Oh my—” suddenly she realized the man had mentioned a child, _his_ child. He thought she was turned off by the fact that he was a parent. _How little does he think of me?_ _He doesn’t even know me, for crying out loud_ , she thought. “No, sorry, I was just confused—I love kids,” she started and watched as he beamed. _No, jeez, Poppylan. Don’t get his hopes up like that!_ “What I mean is, I’d never be bothered by the fact that a man has children,” she tried to clarify, but it only seemed to make him sit up straighter, scooching his stool imperceptibly closer to hers. “I-I mean,” she stammered, glancing back down the bar to where Gyu was talking hurriedly to a rather large man with his back to her. “I was just confused, is all,” she said, “it seemed like you were implying my tattoo was fake.” She quickly gulped down another sip of her drink, staring intently at the spiral of lime Gyu had expertly weaved through the skewer.

“I mean it’s pretty obvious it is, darling,” the man took another sip of his scotch. When she turned back to look at him, his expression had settled to match his patronizing tone.

“Excuse me?”

“I mean, the edges,” he gestured toward her back again and leaned in to whisper, almost as if trying to save her the embarrassment if anyone were to overhear, “it’s peeling off your shoulder. I’d give it another, mmm,” he leaned back to appraise what he could see of her tattoo, “three days? Then it’ll be gone entirely. I mean, don’t get me wrong,” he said, leaning forward again, resting one elbow on the bar and balling a fist against his hip as he opened his legs and faced her more fully, “it’s better you went the temporary route. Wouldn’t want to sully that beautiful body of yours.”

 _This asshole_. Poppy could almost laugh. Who the hell did he think he was? “I’m sorry, Mr…” she trailed off, raising her eyebrows at him.

He laughed, “holy crap, did I not introduce myself? Name’s Elijah.” He extended a hand, but Poppy simply looked at it until he let it fall back against his hip. “Tough crowd,” he smirked as he moved to take another sip of scotch.

“Listen, E—can I call you E?” she paused only a second, not waiting to hear his answer. “How many tattoos do you have?”

Her quip seemed to have the opposite effect than she’d intended—Elijah had turned even more fully to face her, eyes alight at her fiery tone. “None, actually,” he said. “Unless you count the extras from the dentist my daughter insists on sharing.”

“So, then you wouldn’t know the first thing about tattoos, then, would you?” she looked at him coldly, not allowing her face to reveal the small amount of warmth she felt at the thought of this arrogant man being so wrapped around his daughter’s finger that he’d wear her stick-on tattoos. He was still a jerk and she was just trying to have a drink after a rough start to her week. _Where the hell was Dene_?

“I mean, what’s there to know? There’re needles and ink and it’s never coming off,” he shrugged, studying her face, mistaking the blush on her cheeks for interest rather than anger.

“It’s not fake,” she said, perhaps a little too loudly.

Elijah smirked again.

Poppy had had enough. She took another gulp of her drink and searched around for Gyu, knowing Elijah was the type of man who would only believe her was if he heard it from another man. The bartender would back her up, and maybe he’d even get the guy to leave. She turned around and waved at Gyu who pulled his eyes away from the large man he was still conversing with and nodded toward her. Time seemed to slow down to half-speed as the man on the other side of the bar from Gyu turned around to see what he was looking at. She hadn’t recognized him without the baseball hat—long black hair touched his shoulders, half of it pulled back into a messy bun. He was breathtaking in tight black jeans and a gray sweatshirt that had the superman symbol emblazoned in a vintage wash across his back. Poppy met his amber eyes and felt her stomach bottom out, almost like the feeling she used to get right before she’d jump down from the trees she used to climb with her dad. Anticipation nestled between her legs as she saw a flicker of recognition in his eyes, softening his face ever so slightly from the hard expression he’d worn just moments before. _Was it possible he remembered her, too?_ Thinking briefly of the trees in Moonbright, her feet balanced on the edge of the lowest branches, Poppy leapt. “Tora!” she smiled and waved him over.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> #ElijahIsOverParty
> 
> I had way too much fun writing this, but writing Tora is even more fun--can't wait for next chapter 😜
> 
> Chapter 4: All work and no play makes Tora an angsty boy, but can a chance encounter with a feisty hamster at Chevy’s turn his luck around?


	4. No shit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Grumpy Tora is grumpy. He's also had a shitty start to his week after a certain someone never called. Like Poppy, his boss assigns him an impossible task. Cue: Angst. (Fair warning, there's a lil section that's NSFW)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wrote this anxiously while watching the shitstorm in Washington—stay safe out there, y’all 
> 
> A couple notes about this chapter:
> 
> 1\. I’m sorrrrry I couldn’t resist the angsty drama (Tora’s just an angst-magnet!) and it took over the chapter as I’d originally planned it. So this probably isn’t the update you were hoping for but I swear next one will bring our tiger and flower together. I miss their banter.  
> 2\. That said, this one’s a lil nsfw, note the updated tags 🙈🙈🙈 Though I write for a living, romance is sooooo far outside my wheelhouse, idk wtf I’m doing. This is my first ever attempt at smut/romance. All comments warmly embraced, especially constructive ones! I want these characters to be believable and feel as true to MPL as possible.  
> 3\. Last, content warning (just in case) for some mentions of violence
> 
> As always, characters belong to the real MVP Lilydusk, brilliant creator of Midnight Poppy Land. Support her on Patreon! https://www.patreon.com/lilydusk

**Chapter 4**

“No shit,” Tora murmured to himself, his heart dancing against his ribcage, as he met the wide brown eyes of the woman from Quincey’s liquor store. He couldn’t believe his luck as she once again smiled at him. The past three days had been agonizing, he found his fingers itching more and more for his phone rather than his cigarettes, not daring to allow himself the hope that he would see her again as Saturday turned into Sunday, then Monday into Tuesday. Had he misread everything? Come on too strong? He’d never wanted anything more in his entire shit life than to see her face again, to know her name.

*

It’d been a while since Tora had had such an utterly shit week. When he’d returned to the penthouse on Friday night, he’d nearly dropped the brown bags full of wine he was carrying as Quincey barreled into him, jumping Tora as soon as the younger man had heard his key in the door.

“What the fuck happened?” Quincey asked as Tora took a quick step back to regain his balance.

“Fuck, Quince!” he growled, one arm clutching the two bags to his chest as the bottles clinked dangerously, his other arm braced against Quincey’s chest. “Get the hell off.” He pushed gruffly past him and headed toward the kitchen as Quincey followed close behind.

“Nah, ah ah. You never texted me back—what happened?” he crossed his arms and leaned against the counter as Tora removed the bottles from the bags. Normally, he’d have just handed the bags to Quincey and returned to the couch, fuck if he was gonna shop _and_ unpack. He didn’t even drink the shit. But tonight he needed to busy himself with a task, otherwise Quincey would read him easily.

“Ya sent me on a wild fuckin’ goose chase for a bottle ya didn’t even know the name for,” he bit out, “remember?” He glared at Quincey as he grabbed two of the white wines and stalked across the marble tiles to the built-in wine cooler Quincey had insisted on having installed the previous year (“Honey, of course there’s not enough room in the fridge for the bottled water _and_ the wine!”).

“Mhmm,” Quincey absent-mindedly peered into one of the bags, pulling it open with one index finger.

Tora rolled his eyes, “if ya not gonna help, go back to ya porn.” He ripped the bag away and pulled out another two bottles.

“What’s this one?” Quincey ignored his comment, lifting a bottle with a blue label from his hand. “Honey, I didn’t ask for this. I tried this last week and it was too sweet.” He looked up at Tora, his brows drawn together, “what in the world possessed you to buy this?”

 _Shit_. It must’ve been the bottle he’d grabbed off the shelf at random when the woman had distracted him. He grunted, “grabbed the wrong one.”

Quincey stared at him, his expression frozen in a state of disbelief. _Goddammit, here we go. Always stickin’ his nose where it’s got no business bein’._ “Tora…”

Tora pinched the bridge of his nose, “fuckin’ what, Quince,” he snapped. “It’s one bottle. Next time why don’t ya just go yaself.”

“Okay, big guy,” he still hadn’t moved, though his head cocked slightly to the side as he evaluated Tora’s mood. “First of all, it’s self-care Saturday. You know I like a glass of wine with my bath—”

“It’s Fri—”

“—midnight on Saturday morning, it’s an all-day affair, honey, you know this,” Quincey interrupted, “and second of all—”

“If ya takin’ care of yaself then why the fuck am I here babysittin’,” Tora growled, crossing his arms.

“— _second of all_ ,” Quincey repeated slightly louder this time, “you never make mistakes, not even grocery shopping.” Tora rolled his eyes at Quincey’s use of the word “grocery.” The man probably _did_ consider alcohol as essential as food. “So, what gives?”

Tora knew he had to change tactics or else Quincey would sniff out the truth faster than he could find a back-room orgy at Club Miracle. “I got it for me.”

Quincey’s mouth fell open and Tora used the opportunity to grab the bottle out of his hand. He shoved it back in one of the empty bags and crumpled the excess paper around the neck. He glanced back up, “fuck, what now.” Quincey hadn’t moved, but his eyes had narrowed. He certainly smelled bullshit, well aware Tora hardly ever drank, not just because he hated the taste, but because his job required that he keep his wits about him, sharp at all times. He’d made no shortage of enemies over the years and besides, the primary responsibility that Vincent had tasked him with was protecting the very man in front of him. _Little shit._

He watched as Quincey took out his phone and tapped a couple times, “fine, fine,” he sighed. “I know it’s been a rough week for you, from the little Dad shared. Sorry,” he said glancing up at Tora and giving a half-hearted smile.

 _The fuck?_ Tora was suspicious. Quincey’d always been an annoying little shit, never knowing when to drop it. He narrowed his eyes and Quincey must have noticed, because a moment later he reached over and put a hand on Tora’s shoulder. “Really, boo. Thanks for grabbing this stuff, and so late at night. I know you probably just want to sleep. You can crash here for tonight if you want, takeout’s on me,” he finished with a nod.

Tora hesitated, hand still wrapped around the neck of the wine he’d somehow convinced Quincey he’d gotten for himself. He’d really hoped to squeeze in a workout to ease some of the stress from earlier that afternoon, and—if he was being honest—some of the jitters he still felt whenever he thought back to the woman from the liquor store. _How the fuck had he forgotten to ask her name? Fuckin’ dumbass piece of shit._ “Ya mean takeout’s on you but I still have to pick it up, right?” he asked dryly, smirking slightly so the other man knew that, despite his gruff tone, he was forgiven.

Quincey laughed, “of course, honey,” he replied airily. “Oh, by the way,” he drew closer to Tora, squeezing an arm around the man’s broad shoulders, “who’s this?” He held his phone up under Tora’s nose but kept his gaze trained intently on the man who was his older brother in all but blood.

Tora’s body immediately betrayed him. Most people wouldn’t have seen through the crack in his mask, but Quincey wasn’t just anyone. They’d grown up together, shared more time together than they had with anyone else. Living under the roof of the same abusive man had created a bond that was unshakeable between the two boys, now young men. Hell, Tora’d spent more time with Quince than with his own blood brother, Goliath. So, it was really no surprise—and most definitely Quincey’s plan all along, the little shit—that Tora’s own body betrayed him to the only person he’d truly ever cared for, though he’d never admit it. Quincey had pulled up the last photo Tora had sent to him: in the foreground, the rows of wine glinted in the overhead lights of the liquor store, but because of Tora’s exceptional height, he’d also captured much of the aisle over where a young woman was frozen in time, a profile shot as she walked past the camera. And he’d recognize her anywhere, could almost smell her here in Quincey’s kitchen trapped against the other man’s side. He couldn’t hide his sharp inhale or the heat that immediately colored his cheeks, blooming down his neck and up to his ears. If Quincey had better hearing, he’d have also heard the rapid increase in Tora’s heartrate, but maybe he could tell anyway from the vein suddenly throbbing with each pulse in his neck.

“Dunno,” he choked out, refusing to meet Quincey’s eyes. He could see from the corner of his vision that the man’s face had cracked into a shit-eating grin. He quickly shrugged out from under his arm and walked to the living room, bottle still in hand, determined to maintain the lie as long as possible, forcing himself to maintain a normal pace despite the way his legs demanded he bolt.

“Don’t know or don’t want to share with your boo?” Quincey had followed him just a step behind.

“The first,” he bit out as he placed the bottle on the coffee table and slumped back into the couch, removing his phone from his back pocket. He’d intended to open up a game, but couldn’t help hitting the messages app, his heart sinking a little when he didn’t see any new messages. _Sucker_.

“Pretty sure it’s the latter,” Quincey flopped down next to him, sliding into Tora and leaning an index finger on the edge of his screen. “You waiting to hear from someone?” Tora could hear the smile in his voice.

“Fuck off,” he moved to grab the controller off the table in front of them, turning on the console to load up a game. He needed to shoot something. Or smoke. But he was down to his last cigarette until tomorrow. _Fuck_.

“You talk to her?”

“Drop it,” Tora mashed the button to load his last save.

“She’s cute. You get her number, tiger?”

“The fuck I just say?”

“Don’t tell me she turned you down?” Quincey asked playfully.

“Quinceton.” Tora stood up abruptly. _Fuck,_ now Quincey would know he’d struck gold.

“Oh honey,” he could feel the man’s eyes on his back, full of pity. “Nooo,” he whispered softly.

 _Fuck my shit, motherfuckin’ life_ , Tora tossed the controller back down on the table and grabbed his jacket off the back of the couch, putting his phone back in his pocket. He didn’t know why, but decided to take the bottle of wine, too, maybe to smash it, snatching it up from the table by the neck.

“Wait, Tora! Where are you going?”

Tora didn’t look back as he slammed the door behind him.

*

He’d only managed to sleep for a handful of hours that night, unable to stop himself from thinking about the mystery woman. Who was she and where the fuck had she come from? She didn’t seem like the type to live in the area—she’d seemed so out of place at the upscale store. He thought back to her sweater, the words “why can’t someone else just do it” still clear as day in his mind and couldn’t help but laugh.

He pulled out his phone for the hundredth time since getting back from Quincey’s and pulled up the blurry picture. He’d tried zooming in on her face, but the photo got too distorted to the point where he no longer recognized her. For the past hour, he’d been considering sending the photo to Gyu to see if he might be able to track her down—if anyone could find her, the younger clan member could. _Fuck it_ , what’d he have to lose? _Drawing attention to her_. That could end badly, but it’s not like he even knew her name. No one knew he was connected to her, hell, even he couldn’t consider himself “connected” to her. He’d bought her a box of wine, so what? And he could trust Gyu, would trust him with his life, for sure. Before he could change his mind again, Tora pulled up his messages with Gyu and quickly typed out his orders, attaching the photo, cropping out the wine bottles from the bottom of the photo. There was a good chance Gyu was still awake, probably wasn’t even off his shift at Chevy’s yet. The bar stayed open an extra hour on Friday nights. Sure enough, his phone buzzed a minute later.

@Ronzo: WHOA BOSS. WHERE’D YOU FIND THE CUTIE?  
@Ronzo: what’s with the angle tho? bet she’s a knockout from the front 🤤 🤤

@Ronzo: kidding, i’m just kidding. don’t beat me up. last time you did i couldn’t leave the hospital for 2 weeks.  
@Ronzo: i can see that vein in your forehead popping. not a good look in front of a girl, boss. heh heh.

Tora huffed. Gyu was practically still a kid, and he definitely still acted like it sometimes.

@Tora: cut the crap or i’ll break ya other leg when i get back. can ya find her or not

@Ronzo: i’ll try, big bro, but i gotta warn you now, that photo is hella blurry and the angle makes it harder.

@Tora: just do it

@Ronzo: aye aye, i’m on it.

Tora laid his head back on the arm of the couch in his dark apartment, running his other hand over his face, then down his neck. He didn’t want to get his hopes up, even Gyu had seemed less than optimistic. Maybe he wasn’t meant to know her beyond that short half hour they’d spent together. He wished that was enough for him, but he was a selfish bastard. He let his hand slip off the side of the couch as he thought about the way she’d smiled at him. He just wanted to squeeze her cheeks, they looked so soft like everything else about her. He felt his cock twitch in his jeans, blood rushing to his groin as he thought about the feel of her chest against his body. _Don’t, ya sick fuck_. He groaned as he brought his hand up to skim against his jeans growing more strained as he hardened and grew. He rubbed once more as his pants tightened, his erection pushing back against the friction of his palm through the fabric. _Take a fuckin’ shower_.

A shower. The thought that he’d intended to be a wet blanket had him imagining her in his bathroom. _No, her bathroom_. Any bathroom except his cold shell of an apartment. Even if he knew her, he could never bring her here to this sad cement hole. He imagined her silhouette illuminated against a shower curtain in an all-white bathroom, something out of the home design magazines Quincey left around the penthouse. Slowly he unbuttoned his jeans. _Fuck, was he really gonna do this? What the hell would she think of him if she knew?_ He felt light-headed, she’d never know. _No one would ever know_ , he told himself as he eased his fully erect cock out of his pants until it bobbed against his relaxed abdominal muscles.

He gripped himself lightly and started to stroke up and down, a slow rhythm at first as he imagined pulling back the curtain. He’d climb in behind her and reach to spin her slowly toward him under the water. _One of those fuckin’ ceiling showerheads, yeah,_ he thought. He imagined what she’d look like under the spray, her brown hair tangled on top of her head—no, loose down her back. He’d run his fingers through it as he pulled her closer, his other hand wrapping around her waist lightly, running his fingers down lower until his palm cupped her ass. _Her ass_ , he thought, quickly raising his hips to shuck his jeans and briefs down to his thighs before bringing one hand back to his cock. He thumbed a bead of liquid from his head and stroked back down, slightly faster as he imagined her kneeling in front of him in the steam, one hand moving up and down his shaft as she looked up at him. _Fuuuuck_ , her lips looked so soft. He reached his other hand down and cupped his balls which had grown tighter against his body, imagining her own hand holding him instead. He stroked himself faster, hips thrusting up every couple seconds to meet the rhythm of his hand. Tora imagined her eyes still on his as she brought her mouth to his cock, her tongue reaching out— _oh fuuuuck_ , with one last thrust Tora spilled over his fist and onto his abdomen, a couple drops landing on his phone. _Shit_ , he brought the back of his dry hand to his forehead, panting softly in the darkness of his apartment. _Ya don’t deserve her,_ he thought, clenching his jaw.

*

Tora had gotten the text on Monday, just as he was finishing his last set of deads. He’d immediately put the barbell down, gingerly stepping over it to reach his phone on the metal table against the wall. He couldn’t help the way his heart leapt every time it buzzed, even after he’d heard back from Gyu the previous night that he’d been unable to find anything on the woman. Apparently, the photo had been useless, but Tora hadn’t been able to bring himself to delete it from his phone. What if he never saw her again and it turned out to be the only thing to remember her by? The only piece of evidence to prove to himself that she’d been real, not some imagined escape for a brief handful of minutes. Too brief. But his stomach clenched when he saw the name across his screen.

@Vincent: Tonight, 6pm. Wear your suit and don’t be late.

*

“Tora, my boy. You made it,” Vincent smiled at Tora as he’d stepped through the large clan meeting room on the first floor of his boss’s mansion. “You look sharp,” he said with a smack between Tora’s shoulder blades. To a civilian, the gesture, especially paired with his smile, could be taken as friendly, welcoming. Fatherly, even. But Tora knew better—Vincent’s smile was cold, he’d never seen it meet the man’s eyes, and he’d aimed the pat on his back at an old injury Vincent himself had inflicted when he was still breaking a pubescent Tora.

Tora clenched his jaw, but otherwise didn’t react. Vincent would pounce on any sign of weakness. He turned to look at his adoptive father, his face a mask, eyes indifferent and mouth slightly downturned. He reached disinterestedly into the inner pocket of his suit jacket and took out a cigarette from his new pack and lit up, puffing a couple times away from Vincent’s face before turning back to his boss. “You needed me.”

“We do,” Vincent replied, steering Tora toward the seat next to his own beside the head of the table. Several other clan members were already seated. Tora took them in, blowing a stream of smoke toward Martin and his boys, Claude and Scharch, who sat further down the table.

Tora leaned back and waited. Best to hold his cards to his chest.

Finally, Vincent folded. “Tell me, how hard have you been trying to track down that notebook.” Tora waited a moment, then blinked before he took another drag off his cigarette.

“I told ya, doesn’t exist.” He’d spent the last couple weeks tracking down the last known whereabouts of Goliath—some shit shack hideout in the Ares Street district that doubled as a brothel. Even that chick Candy hadn’t been able to give him any new info he hadn’t himself already dug up.

Vincent eyed him coldly. “Have you heard from him?”

Tora didn’t have to ask to know Vincent meant his shit-for-brains brother. “Nah,” he took another drag, comfortable knowing it was the truth. He hadn’t been able to find Goliath, hadn’t heard from the backstabbing little shit in years. In truth, he was probably dead. “Not on speaking terms.”

Vincent barked a laugh. Tora could read the man well, there was a time and a place for this brand of dry humor and he’d judged this moment correctly. “Not on speaking terms…” Vincent repeated softly, sighing as he leaned back in his chair. “You know, I had a brother,” he gestured with his hand as though they were a group of friends out to dinner, about to reminisce on spirited family memories. “We don’t speak either,” he met Tora’s eyes coldly. Tora could feel the shift in the room as his boss’s mood flipped. _Shit_. “You know why?” He’d taken to twirling the point of the silver dagger he kept with him at all times against the table. Tora lifted his cigarette to his mouth again—remaining too still would give the impression of fear. He couldn’t afford that. “Well, first I cut out his tongue. Awful mess,” the corner of his lip pulled up into a sneer. Vincent’s piercing gaze flicked from Tora’s hand resting on the table which held his cigarette loosely up to his blank amber eyes. “But you know that.”

The fingers that rested below the table on Tora’s lap twitched. _Don’t fuckin’ break_. With his other hand, he flicked the ashes from his cigarette into the tray kept by his seat at the table.

“It’s difficult to talk without a tongue,” Vincent continued, eyes narrowed on Tora, taking in every movement, “but it becomes impossible without the throat.” He paused, waiting for a reaction.

Tora ran his tongue over his bottom lip and took a chance, “I’ll bet.”

Vincent chuckled once without smiling. “You will find your brother and deliver him to me.”

Tora nodded. “Understood.”

“I want daily reports.” Vincent put the dagger down and his mood seemed to lighten to something with a little less malice. “And in the meantime, you’ll be helping out Martin on his collections.”

 _The fuck_ , Tora’s jaw tensed. He understood this move served two purposes: it was both his punishment and his incentive. Vincent, ever the chess player, knew he hated grunt work, especially if it required collaboration. “Understood.”

“You may return to Quincey now, Tora.” Vincent waved his hand once in dismissal, “Martin will be in touch.” Tora took one last drag of his cigarette and stubbed it out in the ash tray. As he passed by Vincent’s chair, the older man grasped his wrist lightly, “and Tora,” he said. “You should really stop smoking,” his eyes seemed to look right through him, “those things can kill you.”

*

Tora had received his first instructions from Martin that very night. The old fucker wasted no time—anything to get under Tora’s skin. For some reason, Martin had always had it in for Tora, ever since he and Vincent had picked him off the streets of Narin City as a kid. Martin had been instrumental in training Tora—for a time, he’d been Vincent’s right-hand man, but Vincent had swapped him out for a newer model once Tora’d matured into adulthood, reasoning that a man conditioned and indoctrinated to the clan from childhood would be unshakeable in his loyalty. The man had a point, Tora’d conceded a while ago. He’d long stopped imagining a life outside the clan or out from Vincent’s control. It was an impossibility, a child’s dream that could get him killed or worse.

Martin must’ve been in a good mood that day, though, since he didn’t pair Tora with any of his men. That or Claude and Scharch where otherwise occupied. The thought made Tora uneasy, but he’d think about that later. Tora was meant to make the weekly run picking up dues from the businesses and residents under Balthuman protection on the southeastern side of the city. It was a lot of time on the road, but Tora didn’t mind the driving—fast cars gave him one of the few rushes he was able to indulge in. Some of the collections involved some light intimidation, but today’s runs were definitely one-man jobs, at least for Tora. He’d saved the easiest pickup for last, which would also coincidentally put him closest to his apartment, ensuring a quick trip back to his complex before he was able to hit the gym. It also allowed him to speak to Gyu in person—Tora didn’t trust technology, no matter how many times the younger man had tried to convince him of his phone’s security, so long as he used it a certain way. Still, it was safer to talk in person, Tora thought as he pulled up outside Chevy’s, not bothering to straighten his car out after parallel parking a short walk from the front door. He shot a quick text to Gyu to let him know he’d arrived.

He took a couple seconds to check his mirrors for any passersby before bending quickly over the center console to retrieve the gun from under the passenger seat again. Though it was widely known that Chevy’s was Balthuman territory, that also meant rival clans like the Ninedaggers knew that, too. Better safe than sorry. 

He’d always hated the lobby of the restaurant—fuckin’ gaudy as hell. Why’d everything gotta be painted gold? It’s not like it was the real thing. Much like its lobby, Chevy’s was really just a shiny façade masking an underworld of filth. Tora made his way quickly to the bar where he spotted Gyu on the right, talking to a handful of other clan members. _Fuckin’ a_ , Claude sneered at him from one of the low tables next to the bar, his hand gripping a glass with yellow liquid, the ice mostly melted through. He sipped it slowly as Tora approached.

“Hey Scharch, look what the cat dragged in.” Claude nodded to his companion, gesturing for him to turn around. “Why don’t you pull up a seat, big bro.” Claude pushed his foot against the chair next to him, turning it out slightly to Tora who hadn’t slowed his pace as he strode closer to the men. He hated Claude’s fuckin’ smirk. “Want a drink? My treat,” Claude raised his glass as Tora passed them, snickering as he gestured to Scharch who remained hunched in his chair, peering warily up at Tora. Scharch, after all, was much smarter than his companion—he was dangerous, alright.

“Looks like piss,” Tora snarled, satisfied at the way Claude’s face fell damn near immediately as he looked back at his glass. Seemingly agreeing, he put it down on the table with a sour look.

“Ronzo,” Tora put his arm around the man’s shoulders, his hand resting on the back of his friend’s neck as he guided him away from the others and toward the bar, “need a word.”

“Sure thing, big bro.” Gyu allowed Tora to half-push him until they’d reached the bar where Gyu stepped back behind the counter. Tora leaned against the bar top between two stools, his back angled away from the length of the bar to his left, where it seemed like quite a few civilians were seated in the booths and at the bar. Gyu reached down to a drawer in front of him and pulled out a thin envelope. Handing it to Tora discreetly across the wood surface he said, “old man Chevy’s dues.”

Tora nodded, taking it as he unzipped his jacket just enough to slide the envelope into the inner pocket before zipping back up. “Got a question for you.”

“Shoot.”

“Big boss wants me lookin’ back into Goliath.”

Gyu leaned forward, lowering his voice even more, “fuuuuuck, he must think the double-crossing bitch’s still alive then, right?”

“Seems like,” Tora murmured wishing he’d worn his hat. He felt exposed here at the bar in the absence of a clan gathering.

“It’s not fake,” a familiar voice rang out from the other end of the bar just as Gyu’s eyes moved to something over Tora’s left shoulder, nodding as he stood up straight. “Sorry, big bro, be right back,” Gyu said in a rush as he moved toward whatever was going down behind him.

Tora turned and felt his breath stutter as he exhaled, “no shit.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hadn’t intended to bookend this chapter…but it seemed like the natural stopping point after the chapter got twice the size I'd intended. So here we are *shrugs*. 
> 
> Shoutout to nordorr who called it last chapter on why Gyu recognized Poppy
> 
> Chapter 5: Goddamn, how many tattoos did this chick have?
> 
> Teehee 😉


	5. Puppy?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tora can't believe his luck. What are the chances he'd run into the very woman he hasn't been able to stop thinking about since Friday night?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sooooo, I felt bad that the last update wasn't as...satisfying (hehe) as I'd led you to believe. This one is a moster of a chapter (at least for me) and runs double the average length of the previous chapters. I hope it wets your whistle 😉
> 
> As always, characters belong to the real MVP Lilydusk, brilliant creator of Midnight Poppy Land. There's also a little bit of dialogue from the comic (you'll know the part, you probably already suspect the part). Support her on Patreon! https://www.patreon.com/lilydusk

**Chapter 5**

From the other end of the bar, Tora seemed to watch in slow motion as the woman beamed at him from across the room. She’d recognized him. _Holy shit_ , she’d recognized him. He felt his lips twitch up before he abruptly remembered where they were: if Club Miracle was the seedy underbelly of Balthuman territory, Chevy’s was surely the heart or some other highly vital organ. _Why the hell was she here? And how?_ He pushed away from the bar turning more fully toward her just as she waved him over, calling out, “Tora!”

At that very moment, maybe it was dumb luck or maybe he was even smarter than he let on, Gyu knocked a glass from the bar back onto the tile floor with his elbow as he approached the woman. Though the sudden crash drew the attention of everyone in the room—Balthuman clan members included—it also partially masked his name from her mouth. Though, _sweet fuck_ , he’d gulped reflexively as his mouth ran dry. She’d remembered his name. _Why the fuck hadn’t she called_. As discreetly as he could, Tora glanced behind him. Claude’s eyes were on his back, he’d need to play this carefully. He turned his eyes back in front of him where he met the woman’s gaze—her cheeks were already flushed. Had she been drinking or was she just as excited to see him as he was to see her? _Of course she’d been drinking,_ he thought, _she was sittin’ at the fuckin’ bar, dumbass_. Tora eyed the glass in front of her as he sat in the closest empty seat, one stool left between them where a jacket— _hers?—_ patterned with bright orange and red flowers lay folded in half the long way. He angled his body toward her, both in an attempt to shield her from Claude’s prying eyes at the other end of the room and to get a better look at her.

 _Fuckin’ gorgeous_ , he’d been taken by her at the liquor store when she’d been dressed as casual as humanly possible, but now…her hair was pulled back in a twisty braid that fell midway down her back, he wanted so badly to reach out and feel her. Or at least sit on the stool between them—he’d work on getting there. For now, he couldn’t help but admire her body. She was wearing a simple black and white outfit—a sleeveless shirt that scooped tantalizingly down her chest, revealing a sinfully modest amount of her milky pale cleavage. Despite its professional appearance, her black skirt hugged her curves like a second skin, leaving little to his imagination. He noticed it’d ridden up past the tattoo he’d seen earlier in the store— _no, it couldn’t be…_ was that the bottom of a strawberry? He was almost certain it was. His eyes flicked back up to her face, but caught a flash of red below her neck: _another tattoo?_ This one looked fresh, in the peeling stage of the healing process, which meant she’d either gotten it the day they’d met or over the weekend. _Goddamn, how many tattoos did this chick have?_ His lip pulled up into a whisper of a smile, raking his eyes back over her clothing, imagining what she might be hiding underneath the tight fabric. She was full of surprises and he wanted desperately to unwrap her slowly. Discover each one. Savor her.

He coughed once to clear his throat which was still incredibly dry. “Ronzo,” he barked, catching the man’s eye as he looked up from sweeping shards of glass. Tora leaned his right elbow against the bar, extending his forearm to tap his index finger twice on the wooden surface.

“The regular, big bro?” Gyu asked from a crouch as he angled a dustbin against the glittering pile. Tora nodded his head once, still finding it difficult to talk. He didn’t want to risk having a coughing fit just moments after running into the woman again. That’d be just his fuckin’ luck. Real smooth.

Looking back at the woman, he realized she’d cocked an eyebrow at their exchange, though she didn’t voice whatever question she was clearly holding behind her teeth. Her perfect teeth, he could see just a peek of them from behind her lips. _Fuck_ , he couldn’t stop staring at her mouth, it looked pinker than the last time, though just as soft. His cock twitched and he could feel heat in the tips of his ears as he remembered touching himself to her. _Stop that, ya creep_ , he was going to have to leave if he couldn’t get ahold of his thoughts and there was no way in hell he was leaving. With expert timing, Gyu slid him a glass of strawberry juice. Tora inclined his head in thanks and took a sip, grateful for something to busy himself. 

“Tora,” she spoke again, her eyes narrowing. _Shit_ , he entertained the fear that maybe she could read his mind before dismissing it a second later, _ya dumb fuck, focus_. “You have tattoos, right?” She smiled innocently at him then. _The fuck?_ She knew very well he had tattoos, if he remembered right—and he was sure as fuck he did—he’d caught her ogling his bare arms just a few nights ago.

Besides, he cocked his head to the side, angling his chin so she could see the crest on his neck peeking out from his collar, “ya know I do, sweetheart.”

At this, an older man sitting beside the woman leaned forward against the bar to peer around her. _Who in the fuck—_ he had half a mind to tell the asshole to back up and mind his business, but thought better of it. Quincey had told him enough times by now, so Tora was well aware he could come across a little rough around the edges. He didn’t want to scare her off, especially not before he got her name. And her number. _Her name and number_.

The woman leaned back almost imperceptibly like she was affording the man a clearer view of Tora. The man grabbed his glass off the bar top and drained it, quickly looking Tora up and down. Had she called him over to scare off this prick? He could be scary, he thought, arching a brow and clenching his jaw as he stared the man down. The man gulped audibly, and Tora had to bite back a snort. _Shit, it was too easy_.

“You do,” she confirmed, glancing purposefully over at the man to her left. “So, then you know what starts to happen a couple days after you get one.” It was less a question than an invitation for him to agree with her. Tora’s brows pulled together slightly as he redirected his gaze away from the man and back to her face. _What was she after?_ He nodded.

She smiled and waved at Gyu who had been running a dish towel too slowly back and forth over the same part of the bar as he watched the exchange from the corner of his eye. “Hey Gyu, could I trouble you for a water?”

 _Could I trouble you…?_ Who spoke like that? Who was this chick? Tora glanced at Gyu who had immediately abandoned his towel to grab her a glass of iced water. Wait _…she was on a first-name basis with fuckin’ Ronzo?_ All of a sudden, Tora’s face fell into what he knew was a blank expression, a mask to hide the sudden anger simmering in his chest. _Had Ronzo lied to him?_

“Mmm, thanks,” Tora was pulled from his thoughts as the woman finished taking a sip of her water. Gyu had picked up his towel again but his hand was frozen mid-air, hovering about a couple inches above the bar top. He’d found Tora’s eyes. “So, Tora,” the woman continued, unaware of the murderous look in Tora’s eyes dialed to a hundred and directed straight at her best fuckin’ friend Ronzo. She turned back to him and Tora closed his eyes briefly, rearranging his face to neutral. He could still feel the adrenaline his wave of anger had flushed all the way to the tips of his fingers. “Could you describe what a tattoo might look like if it’s, say, three days old?”

“Like shit,” he said gruffly, still distracted by thoughts of Gyu keeping the woman secret from him. How long had they known each other? _Fuck_ , he hadn’t meant to say that out loud, _fuckin’ Ronzo_. He turned his body so that he faced her completely, cutting Gyu out of his field of vision entirely. He sighed, taking in her expression—her eyes had widened further, somehow. He’d unintentionally thrown a wrench in whatever it was she had up her sleeve. “Sorry, sweetheart,” he took a swig of juice and continued, “it’s just that they start to peel.” He put the glass back down on the bar and rubbed his index finger slowly down the side, pushing the condensation to ring around the bottom of the glass. “The skin flakes, so they don’t look so great. Gotta wait a week or two for it to stop, depending on the piece.” Maybe she was asking for herself, having just gotten one, but that didn’t make sense, since it clearly wasn’t her first judging by the strawberry on her thigh. He glanced down at it—yeah, the lines looked, _hmm, weird_. The lines almost looked blurry. _Whatever_ , Tora could ask her later, he was just happy to be talking to her, relieved he hadn’t just fucked it all up.

He let his eyes roam her face, taking in the smallest changes. It was clear from the way her eyes crinkled and her mouth quivered slightly, that she was taking great care to keep from beaming up at him. He guessed he’d given her the answer she was hoping for. _Too stinkin’ cute._ She took a shallow steadying breath and turned back to the other man. “Satisfied?”

 _The fuck?_ Tora looked back at the man— _was this Dean?_ Tora’s heart nearly stopped at the thought. Maybe that’s why she hadn’t called him. For fuck’s sake, had he been pining over a woman who’d been unavailable the whole time? Hadn’t she flirted with him, though? Tora tried to think back to the liquor store, but the scene in front of him demanded his attention.

“Darling,” Tora bristled at the first word out of the man’s mouth. _Darling?_ “You didn’t have to call in the big, bad wolf to convince me. I don’t see the big deal—why does it matter if it’s fake?”

What the hell were they talking about? Almost as if she could sense his annoyance, the woman—without turning around—leaned back toward Tora, placing one hand on the stool between them. From this new angle he could see her entire tattoo, in all its vibrancy. A collection of red flowers cupped her shoulder, a blend of reds and oranges with dark centers. He reached out and lightly held her tricep just below the tattoo, knowing well enough not to touch the inked area—it was still a wound after all. He couldn’t help but smirk as he felt her arm erupt in goosebumps at his touch. He wondered if her body would have the same reaction if caressed in other places. His jeans had grown uncomfortably tight—Tora shifted his legs to relieve some of the pressure. _Focus_.

“I don’t lie,” she said forcefully, “not even to strangers. And I don’t appreciate your assumptions about me. You don’t know the first thing about me.” _Strangers,_ well that was one question answered. This wasn’t Dean. _In that case…_ Tora took a chance, betting on her body language and hoping beyond hope that he’d read her right. He stood then, straightening his back and moving to stand directly behind the woman. His thigh pressed against the side of her arm which was still planted against the stool behind him. She twitched in surprise but didn’t move away. Tora smirked slightly as he felt her press into him on an inhale, her back nestling against his torso until she’d filled all the gaps between their bodies with her own. He placed his right hand on the bar beside her and his left on the leather backrest of her seat, taking his time. He leaned over her left shoulder and turned his head just slightly until his lips brushed the loose hairs that had escaped from her braid and had curled around her ear. “Sweetheart,” he purred low, “this guy botherin’ ya?”

He watched her face for a second, a repressed smile tugging valiantly at the corner of her lip closest to him, before he flicked his eyes toward the man who’d seemed to shrink as Tora had curled his body protectively around the small woman. He’d bet right and was willing to again: _she’s mine_ , he thought as he stared down at the man.

Suddenly, the man stood, giving one last look at the woman before motioning for Gyu to meet him at the other end of the bar to close out his tab.

Tora glanced back at the woman’s lips, her eyes. _How’d he manage to get this close to her?_ If she’d let him, he knew he could stare at her all day. She had a light dusting of freckles across the bridge of her nose, so faint they were impossible to see from any further away. “How’d I do?” He smirked at her. “Scary enough?”

She turned her head slightly and her nose brushed his cheek. His smile faltered, _shit_. He could see both her eyes now, he glanced down at her lips. She was close enough to kiss. “Solid eight out of ten,” she quipped lightly, a gleam in her eyes.

He couldn’t help it, his eyebrows shot up. “An eight,” he repeated. _Sweet fuck, she was feisty_.

“Mmm,” she hummed and he watched as she glanced down at his lips. Tora smirked. “‘Kay, Miss Judgy, how could I’ve improved?” he knew he should move, but holy fuck, she felt good against him. Completely natural. _How the fuck had she done that?_ They didn’t even know each other. Shit, he still didn’t know her name.

 _“Pfft, pfft_ , improved?” she laughed almost silently.

“For next time,” he said, “humor me, sweetheart.”

“Oh, next time, huh?” Tora felt her draw her right arm back from the stool behind them and she twisted toward the bar. He tried not to read into the fact that she’d turned away from his face, away from him. He straightened up but before he could take a step back, she’d removed the brightly colored jacket from the stool and placed it on her other side. She noticed him watching, “so he doesn’t come back,” she said with a smile.

He sat down, body still facing her as he reached behind him to grab the strawberry juice. “Thought you didn’t drink,” she said as she took a sip of her water. He smiled around the rim of his glass and swallowed before answering her, “I don’t,” he confirmed. “But this ain’t alcohol.”

“So, why strawberry juice?” she asked. Tora gazed at her in wonder for a moment. She’d remembered his name, the fact that he didn’t drink, _and_ the juice he’d been drinking that night? Was she just incredibly perceptive for a civilian or was there more to it?

“Nah, ya never answered my question.” He smirked, “ya up first, sweetheart.”

She rolled her eyes and he laughed. She held up her hands, fingers splayed and palms facing him. “Well, you could’ve sat closer,” she put down a finger.

He scoffed but couldn’t hold back his smile. _She’d wanted him closer_. “I call bullshit—ya jacket was there.”

“I’m not here to provide feedback,” she deadpanned, “I just keep score.”

He narrowed his eyes, “thought ya were the judge.”

 _Pfft, pfft, pfft,_ she ducked her head as she giggled. He could get used to that sound.

Tora saw his opportunity and took it. “So, then what do I call ya if ya not Miss Judgy?” He held his breath as she gazed up at him.

“Poppy.”

Tora raised his eyebrows in exaggerated surprise, “what’s that? Puppy?”

She frowned slightly, “…Poppy.”

He reached for his drink and took a sip, “Poopy?”

“No!” He glanced back over at her and watched as a blush spread softly across her cheeks. _Fuck, just wanna squeeze ‘em_. “It’s short for Poppylan. Like poppy, like the flower?” she raised her voice as if in question, and then something clicked in her eyes as she quickly turned her shoulder to him and gestured at the tattoo. _Ah, so they were poppies_. He really only knew roses—because who didn’t know what a fuckin’ rose was—and peonies. Roses, peonies, and poppies.

“Damn, I must be going deaf. Can’t hear a word ya say.” He paused, “what about sweetheart? Ya like sweetheart?” He watched as she blushed before turning to drink a gulp of water. _No answer. Interesting._ “Fine, have it your way,” he sighed dramatically, flicked his eyes up to meet hers, and smirked, “Bobby.” He tried to keep his eyes on hers, but he couldn’t help it as they fell to watch her blush spread down her neck, past the tops of her tits before disappearing into her shirt. _Sweet fuck, he wanted her_.

“Can I get you two anything else? My shift’s almost over…” Gyu trailed off as Tora whipped his head to stare daggers at him. _Read the fuckin’ room, Ronzo_. The bartender instinctively took a step back.

“I’m good. Thanks, Gyu,” she smiled at him and Gyu quickly backed away without waiting for Tora to say anything.

Her hands on his face. Tora felt her fingers all of a sudden on either side of his jaw. “You’re getting mad again, aren’t you?” she asked softly, her eyes roaming over his face like he was an open book. How could she read him so well?

He reached up and circled both of her wrists. His brain told him to lift her hands away from him, keep her at a safe distance, but his body held her hands where they were, pressed lightly against the skin of his jaw, as he felt his face relax.

“Oi, Gyu,” he heard from the other end of the bar. _Claude_. Tora lifted her hands, deftly transferring both of her wrists to his left in a gentle hold as he angled his body completely toward her—as wide a shield as possible between this soft, small woman and the clan members behind him. He should really get her out of here, but he wasn’t ready to say goodbye. He’d only just learned her name, for fuck’s sake. _Poppylan._ He liked the feel of her name in his mouth. “Put it on the tab,” he heard Claude’s shout and the sound of the clan shuffling out from the bar area along with some shouts about Club Miracle. He chanced a glance over his shoulder and found the lounge table they’d been crowded around empty. He exhaled, turning his attention back to the woman in front of him. She was placing his glass of strawberry juice back on the bar, clearly having just snuck a sip.

“Oi, Bobby,” his mouth hung open in a half laugh, “the fuck?”

“I didn’t think you’d notice,” she squeaked, blushing bright with embarrassment.

“S’all right, sweetheart,” he smirked, “ya a fuckin’ feisty lil hamster, aren’t ya?”

“A hamster?” she cried, her mouth open and her eyes wide. “Why a hamster?”

Keeping his eyes on hers, he leaned forward, raising his hands to cup the air between them, “ya got big b—”

She gasped and brought a hand up to smack his arm, which he easily blocked with his own. “Balls, Bobby!” he laughed, “Ya got big balls.” He reached out and took a sip of his drink, placing his mouth over the imprint of where her lips had touched the rim, imagined his against hers. “Ya got a dirty mind, don’t ya?”

He watched her blush again, _sweet fuck,_ she was fun to tease. He loved learning each new shade of pink that tinged her cheeks. “So, ya wanna tell me what that was,” he nodded toward the stool behind her where her jacket rested.

She swallowed, “just some light mansplaining,” she said. “But I handled it.”

He raised a brow, “ _mansplaining_?”

“You know, when a man explains something to a woman that she already knows,” she pursed her lips, “he said my tattoo was fake because it was peeling even after I explained it to him. _Jerk_ ,” she muttered the last word under her breath.

Tora took a breath to ready his retort, but before he could form his mouth around the word _damn_ , she’d continued breathlessly, “and who even asked him anyway? He said he didn’t even have a single tattoo, not one,” she huffed, “what the fudge does he know.”

 _Had she just…_ “sorry, Bobby, didn’t catch that.” He just couldn’t fuckin’ resist. “What’s fudge gotta do with it?”

She tilted her head in confusion, then seemed to realize he was teasing her again as he laughed silently, his shoulders shaking. “Ha ha,” she deadpanned, “your comedic wit is truly unmatched, ten out of ten.”

He raised his eyebrows at her, “so I get a ten now?”

She rolled her eyes and reached over to grab his glass, her arm brushed against his elbow and he watched her tits swell against the top of her shirt as she pressed against the bar rest. He glanced back up and found her eyes watching him watch her. And yet, she hadn’t moved to cover herself. She hummed as she took a sip, refusing to be the first to break eye contact. He could take a challenge, _ya on, Bobby_ , he thought as he pulled a corner of his mouth up into a smirk. She blushed and he heard her breathe a soft _oh_ as she set the drink back down between them.

“Ya lucky I don’t mind sharin’ with cute hamsters,” he said, narrowing his eyes.

 _Pfft, pfft, pfft_ , she giggled, again ducking her head.

He reached out and placed an index finger under her chin, gently angling her eyes back up to meet his own. “So why’d ya call me over,” he asked softly, “if you were handlin’ the situation with jerkface.”

She smiled, seemingly fine with his finger on her face. He took a chance and trailed it up her jaw, tucking a loose strand of hair back behind her ear. Her hair was so soft, he shouldn’t have been surprised, though. Everything about this woman was soft. “I mean, it definitely helps to have a big scary thug.”

He withdrew his hand like she’d burned him, swallowing sharply. _Ouch._ Was that all she thought of him? She’d just been using him for what, protection? Convenience? _No, she wouldn’t do that_ , he thought quickly as soon as it’d occurred to him. But he didn’t really know the first thing about her, did he? For all he knew, she had a Dean at home waiting for her.

“Oh, fudge,” she said, reaching out to touch his forearm, but seemed to reconsider halfway through the space between them. She let her hand fall back into her lap. “Sorry, that came out wrong,” she said softly, looking down at her hands. He watched as her fingers fidgeted in her lap before she drew her left hand across her chest, reaching for her shoulder. His eyes widened in surprise as she delivered a series of sharp smacks to the poppies on her arm.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa! What the fuck, Bobby!” he reached over, quickly circling her wrist and bringing it down between them. “‘ppreciate the apology,” he said, as he scratched the back of his neck with his free hand, “but shit, don’t hurt yaself.”

All of a sudden she laughed, the sound bursting like music from her mouth. He must have looked bewildered because she laughed harder, bending over, her head falling close to his knees.

“The fuck,” he looked on in confusion, one hand still holding her wrist and the other grasping the back of his neck. “Somethin’ funny, Bobby?”

She peered up at him, her mouth still open in a silent laugh as her shoulders continued to shake, eventually softening as she sat back up. She reached up with her free hand and ran a finger under each of her eyelids. “No, it’s,” she chuckled again, “my tattoo is really itchy and Gyu told me I should slap it.”

“Slap it,” he repeated slowly. The fuck was she talkin’ about?

“Mhmm,” she hummed, “but it doesn’t really help that much.” Suddenly, she sat up straight in her stool—he glanced down, acutely aware of the fact she hadn’t pulled her hand away from his. “Hey, Gyu said you’d have some advice on how to deal with the itching,” she trailed off in question.

“Well, I sure as shit don’t slap ‘em, sweetheart,” he smirked at her.

Her face fell slightly, “oh.”

He sighed, “Ronzo don’t know shit about tattoos,” he said. “If ya need someone to hack the fuckin’ Skynet, he’s ya guy. Outside of all that tech shit, though, he’s just blowin’ hot air out his ass.”

“ _Pfft, pfft._ Skynet, really?” she chuckled.

He rolled his eyes. “I don’t fuckin’ know, Bobby.” He scratched his ribs. “I call him when I need a new phone. Shit like that,” he said. Tora glanced away from her face, worried she’d be able to see in his eyes that Gyu helped him with a lot more shady shit than just setting up his new phones whenever he broke them against the wall of his apartment in anger. It wasn’t a lie, he couldn’t lie to her—just a partial truth. For her own safety, she didn’t need to know how accurate she’d been when she’d called him a scary thug.

A new bartender had replaced Gyu, and the man took their momentary silence to slide down towards them. “Need a re-up, ma’am?” he pointed toward Poppy’s empty water glass and turned to Tora after she’d nodded. Shit, he’d stay here all night if it meant he could keep talking to her.

“Yeah.” He turned back to Poppy, “enough about Ronzo—ya still haven’t answered my question.”

She raised her eyebrows as the bartender slid a water over to her. She nodded in thanks and reached over with her free hand to grab the fresh strawberry juice that had just been placed beside him. The bartender paused, “ma’am, I can get you one, too?”

She glanced at Tora to see if he minded. “Nah, we’re good,” he smiled at her. “Ya keep stealin’ my drink, the least ya can do is tell me why ya called me over here,” he thought for a moment before adding, “if ya don’t think I’m a scary thug and all.” He pulled his mouth up into a smirk to hide the anxious feeling in his stomach as he waited for her to swallow.

“I knew that jerk wouldn’t believe what I had to say unless it came from another man,” she explained slowly, tracing a finger through the rim of condensation on the bar top. He glanced down at her other hand, his fingers still in a light hold around her wrist. _So, it had been convenience, then_. Tora swallowed the lump in his throat and gritted his teeth. _Of course it was._ Teach him to get his hopes up, _fuck_. “Buuuut,” she continued, drawing out the word as she drew a large U on the bar. His eyes snapped to her face, breath catching at the back of his tongue. _But…?_ “Mostly I was excited to see you,” the words dropped out of her mouth softly, floating in the space between them which had become electrified, Tora was sure. He could feel it, some kind of invisible energy pulsing between them. She turned her head away from the bar, drawing her eyes up to his and wiping the condensation from her finger against her skirt.

He could feel the blush on his cheeks, mirrored on her own. _Goddamn_. He inhaled sharply as he felt his heart stutter in his chest. He let her wrist slip from his hand until his fingers closed around her own. He glanced down at their hands, skimming a thumb over the tops of her fingers. Shit, she was so tiny. He knew if they were to compare palm-to-palm, he’d be able to fold the tips of his fingers over the tops of hers. At the thought of their hands pressed together, he couldn’t focus on anything else. He definitely wanted to try that. _Needed_ to.

Tora looked over at the hand on her skirt. He could see even more of her strawberry tattoo now, _was that a…a face?_ He squinted, trying to pull it into focus. _Shit yeah,_ that was for sure a fuckin’ smiley face in the middle of the berry. Without looking away he asked, “so how many tattoos ya got, Bobby?”

She glanced down, following his gaze to her thigh and then snorted loudly, quickly clapping a hand over her mouth.

He laughed, _fuck, she was too much._

“Oh my god,” she groaned, pulling her hand from his and reached up to his face. With both of her palms, she covered his open mouth as he continued to laugh. “Put those away.” He liked the feeling of her fingers on his face.

He reached up and gently tugged her wrists down so he could ask, “put what away, sweetheart?”

She gestured limply toward his mouth, wrists still caught in his hands. “Your dimples,” she said with a blush, “they’re obscene.”

He laughed again, releasing her hands. “Don’t go fallin’ for me, Bobby,” he said lightly, hoping she’d read his expression as teasing rather than the truth of the matter: he wanted the exact opposite even though he knew it was dangerous for her, impossible for him. _Fall for me_. She blushed deeper.

Tora leaned forward and pressed a finger just beneath the lower border of the strawberry on her thigh, “so ya gonna tell me how many ya got,” he asked, glancing up at her through his lashes, “or ya gonna let me find out later tonight?”

She inhaled sharply, and he watched her eyes widen. He loved flustering her, she made it so easy. “Just one,” she said quickly.

He frowned, glancing down at her thigh and then at her shoulder. “Bobby, I got eyes…” he started.

“This one’s fake she said, hitching up her skirt to reveal the entire strawberry. He had to pull his eyes away from the way the fabric cinched around her fingers. He shifted in his seat. _Focus._ It did indeed have a face, which grinned up at them, the pupils seemed to point in opposite directions. He couldn’t help but laugh before another thought occurred to him.

“Wait, so let me get this straight,” he squared his shoulders and then leaned against the bar with one elbow. “Ya called me over to convince that asshat ya tattoo was real…even though ya other tattoo was fake the whole damn time?”

She paused, eyes zoning out to the space beyond his shoulder before she looked back at him. “Yes,” she said nodding slowly, her expression turned comically solemn, “that is accurate.” He raised his eyebrows, _the fuckin’_ balls _on this one_ , he thought.

“Fuckin’ feisty hamster,” he murmured, grabbing his glass and taking a sip of the juice. Most of the ice had melted, diluting the sweet flavor.

“We’ve been talking a lot about me,” she said suddenly, waiting for him to swallow and put his glass back down. She reached over and took it from him before he’d fully removed his hand, her fingers brushed against him and he felt another spark. Maybe it was just the heat of her hand as it met the sharp chill of the glass. Maybe. She brought the glass to her mouth, taking a small sip before she set it back down between them.

“Mmmm,” she hummed. “How many tattoos do you have?” she asked.

“Depends.”

“On what?”

“What counts as one,” he smirked. “How we countin’ limbs?”

“Sure, let’s say each arm is one,” she replied, nodding slightly with interest.

He tilted his head and scratched a thumb under his chin. He brought his other hand into the air, tracing the space between them with his index finger in an exaggerated imitation of mathematical calculations like the kind he’d seen the scientists perform in Quincey’s soaps. He could hear her soft _pfft, pffts_ and he repressed a smile, keeping his face screwed into an overly serious expression, lips pursed and brows drawn together as he continued to tap his chin. Finally, he held up a finger, “got it,” he said confidently. “Five.”

She looked shocked, her eyes wider than usual, “just five?”

“Just?” he barked a laugh, “shit, sweetheart. Maybe a more accurate question’d be how long I’ve sat.”

“I mean, just five couldn’t possibly take _that_ long,” she glanced at his arms, hidden in the sleeves of his jacket. “How long?”

“Too fuckin’ long,” he breathed.

“Oh, come on,” she insisted, “how long?”

“I really couldn’t tell ya, sweetheart,” he said truthfully. Sure, his arms had taken a couple years of sporadic sittings to complete, the peonies and koi fish wrapped from his wrists all the way up over his shoulders and around to his scapula. The kanji at the center of his back had taken an hour, but that was cause the tattooer had been new, taking painstaking care not to fuck up the center of Tora’s back. Even as a teenager, he’d been larger than average, already having also earned a ruthless reputation as Vincent’s most promising boy. The crest at his neck had run about the same—mostly because of the sheer amount of ink that’d been needed to fill in the clan’s symbol completely. His leg had been the worst and the longest by far. The tiger sleeve wrapped his leg entirely—from his ankle up and over his ass, the border wisping out around his waistline. Turns out, a needle that close to the balls feels like a needle _in_ the balls. Tora wasn’t sure he’d ever get his other leg done, at least not that high.

“A guesstimate, then.”

“A what?”

“You know,” she said, “somewhere between a guess and an estimate.”

“Why not just choose one or the other,” he joked.

“Tora,” she huffed, looking him firmly in the eyes. _Fuck,_ he felt his stomach drop a little, or maybe it’d risen halfway up his throat, he wasn’t sure. Either way, it’d sure as fuck flipped and landed in a different position entirely.

“Fine,” he rubbed a hand to the back of his neck, arching his back and bending his head back before finally leaning forward on a large exhale, “I dunno, hundred? Give or take?”

She blinked at him, one hand subconsciously rising to smack lightly on her shoulder. “Jesus, Bobby,” he caught her wrist in his hand again and then gestured to the jacket on the stool behind her, “hand me that.”

“Hours?” she said softly as she slowly reached around to hand him her jacket, almost in a daze. “A hundred… _hours_?”

“Give or take,” he said, standing up and moving closer to her. He draped the jacket across the back of her shoulders, carefully pulling her hair out from beneath the cotton fabric. He draped her braid over the opposite shoulder. She smelled sweet, he noted. That sugary smell from before at the liquor store, he felt his lips tug up. “Here,” he moved his left hand to grip the base of her neck, holding the jacket firmly in place as he brought his other hand to her shoulder where the tattoo lay hidden beneath the fabric. “Ya not supposed to scratch ‘em directly cause it can fuck the healin’ process,” he breathed as he began brushing his fingertips up and down her shoulder, featherlight over the jacket. “But if ya use a barrier and go light…” he trailed off, watching as the skin of her neck pebbled. He leaned down until his mouth rested a hair’s breadth from her ear. “Sorta like a condom, Bobby.” He watched as a blush instantly burned across her cheeks and down her neck to her chest like wildfire, “not as good as skin to skin, but ya know,” he smirked, “better safe than sorry.”

He watched her lips part before she stood up abruptly, nearly smacking him in the nose with the force of her shoulder. She turned around and sat in the stool he’d occupied previously, though still facing him. He mirrored her movement, sitting down where she had just been, the leather warm from her ass. He smirked when she finally met his eyes, face still beet red. “What, too much?”

She nodded quickly, looking away. _Ya greedy bastard, keep it in ya fuckin’ pants._ He shifted in his seat, trying to readjust himself discreetly. “Ah shit, sweetheart,” he said rubbing the back of his neck, “Sorry, was just teasin’. Didn’t mean to upset ya.”

They were silent for a couple breaths and Tora was sure he’d fucked it all up. He took a gulp of strawberry juice just to occupy his hands. Her blush had died a bit back down when she finally looked up at him again, “nine out of ten.”

He coughed and had to take a couple deep breathes. “Come again?”

“Your technique,” she explained. “I’d give you a nine out of ten.”

He stared at her dumbfounded. Clearly, she had a quick recovery time—maybe he hadn’t ruined his chances after all. “Well, don’t leave me hanging, Bobby,” he said carefully, “what’d ya dock me for?”

She looked down as she mumbled something, her ears once again deepening to a dark pink.

“Ya gonna have to speak up, sweetheart.”

“You could’ve g-gone,” she paused, even her nose was blushing, “ _harder_ ,” she finished almost at a whisper.

Tora’s cock leapt to life and he quickly turned back to the bar in an attempt to readjust without her noticing. _Sweet everloving fuuuck_. He nearly hissed at the friction of his jeans as he moved one knee to rest on the bar’s foot rail. Not high enough, _shit_. He brought his foot up instead to one of the foot rests on his stool. _As good as it was gonna get_ , he thought. At least his knee was high enough now to shield the clear bulge in his jeans from her view. _Get it together. Fuck._ She had mirrored his body language, having slid in her seat to face back toward the bar. She turned her head to the side and peered over at him. “Tora?”

He glanced at her, _those eyes_. Shit, she was not making it easy to calm down. “Yeah,” he grunted.

“I’m really glad I ran into you.”

Her words were like a shot to his heart. “Ya know, we coulda done this sooner,” he said shrugging his shoulders, guarded. She was saying one thing, but she also hadn’t called him. And there was still the question of Dean.

She blushed. “I know, it’s my fault.”

 _Her fault?_ “Whaddaya mean, Bobby?”

Poppy paused, then turned completely to face him again. He put a fist on his hip closest to her, so that at least he could turn part of the way toward her. His stupid cock still wasn’t fuckin’ cooperatin’. She laughed once. “I was just thinking, I’d been about to tell you that I lost your number.” He narrowed his eyes but waited for her to go on. “But that’s not true.” _Well, shit._ Maybe she really had meant to ghost him. “Truth is, I drank too much and I forgot to put it in my phone, but by the time I remembered, the box was still at Dene’s and I couldn’t ask her to text it to me because then she would’ve just had so many questions and I wasn’t ready to…answer them…” she trailed off, finally glancing up at his face. “But I’m done lying or feeling bad about my decisions, so…what was I saying?”

Tora couldn’t keep the smile off his face. _She’d wanted to call him. And Dean was a chick?_ _A friend?_ “S’all right, Bobby,” he said. “Didn’t realize ya’d already fallen for me,” he schooled his smile into a smirk and watched as she blushed and rolled her eyes.

 _Pfft_.

“Where’s ya phone?” he asked, a hand outstretched.

She reached over to the back of his stool and retrieved a black bag hanging off the side. Gingerly, she attempted to pull out her phone, but it snagged on a tube of ointment, both of which promptly fell out onto the bar top. “Can never fit anything in here,” she laughed as she unlocked and handed him her phone. 

“That for ya tattoo?” he asked nodding his head at the ointment.

“Mhmm,” she nodded, reaching back into her bag for something as Tora opened up her messages, noting she had a new one from an Erdene before he quickly pulled up a blank message and typed his number into the recipient box. No need to invade her privacy. He shot off a quick text to himself and slid the phone back over to her. She glanced over at it as she squirted hand sanitizer onto her hands and rubbed them together. She smirked, “lethal weapon?”

Tora blushed, thinking back to the way she’d grabbed his bicep at the liquor store. “Ya know it,” he rolled his eyes. “Someone messaged you,” he nodded at the phone.

He watched as she squeezed some of the ointment onto the tip of her finger and turned to spread it over her shoulder, sighing as she did so, “that’s so much better.” She glanced down at her phone as she continued to rub her shoulder, “could you read it to me? It’s probably Dene, she was supposed to meet me here ages ago.”

He raised his eyebrows but didn’t say anything. Did she realize how dangerous it could be to let a stranger look through her phone? Then again, _maybe he wasn’t a stranger anymore_. Tora quickly opened her messages back up, exiting back to the main list and clicked on the one marked Erdene. “ _Sorry, Pops_ ,” he read, “ _this ass of a client doesn’t like any of the designs. Not gonna make it tonight. Rain check?_ ” he scrolled a little further, realizing there was another message he hadn’t seen before. “She sent another one, too,” he said, glancing at Poppy. When she nodded he continued reading, “ _Poppylan, you muuuuust upgrade to this model_ ,” Tora smirked as he exaggerated the U’s in _must_. “ _It reaches places no man ever could. Even better than oral,”_ he finished with a laugh, looking up to see Poppy’s mortified expression. _Shit, she was adorable_. “Well shit, Bobby…” he started just as Poppy lunged for her phone, the ointment clattering up and over the bar top as Tora held her phone just out of reach. His hearty laughter abruptly died though, strangled in his throat as Poppy had put a hand on his raised thigh, forcing his knee down and pressing her torso flush against the side of his body as she practically climbed him in an effort to get to her phone. He had made the mistake of looking down at her and had received an eyeful of her tits mashed together against him, her face red, breath panting against his face. “Shit, Bobby,” he choked out, his tone no longer playful. He was very aware how much he sounded in that moment like a teenaged virgin about to cum in his pants. “Poppy,” Tora wheezed. “Poppylan,” he said more forcefully, the hand that held her phone coming down to brace behind him against the bar.

It took a couple moments for her to stop squirming against him, but all at once she seemed to remember herself and where they were. She flew back off of him onto her own stool, blushing this time all the way down her arms. He could barely distinguish where her shoulder tattoo ended and where her flushed skin began—if not for the shiny ointment covering a patch of her skin, he probably wouldn’t have been able to tell the difference.

“Holy shit. I don’t know what came over me.” She covered her face with a hand, “I’m so sorry, Tora.”

He raised his foot back up against the rung of the bar stool, angling his body carefully so she couldn’t see just how much the last couple of seconds had excited him. He felt a strong urge to comfort her, but a much stronger urge to tease. Still…he’d go with the tamer version, somewhere in the middle. “S’fine,” he scratched his head. “Ya swear at all the guys ya jump or just me?”

She looked at him in confusion and then seemed to realize what she’d said. He’d expected to fluster her even more, but if he had she hid it well, “only thugs who steal my phone.”

His mouth dropped open and he snorted. Tora couldn’t explain it, but the word felt different this time, endearing maybe? “Fair enough,” he slid his phone back over to her and she quickly stuffed it into her bag.

 _Shit,_ maybe he’d pushed too far. He sure as hell wasn’t ready for the night to end. Maybe a change of subject, something lighter. “So, Erdene ya friend?”

She nodded, then reached over to grab the strawberry juice, gulping the rest of it down quickly. “Yeah, we work together.”

“Oh yeah? What do ya do?”

Poppy eased back into her seat, seemingly much more comfortable with the change of subject. Work was mundane enough—he’d keep it vague if she asked him about his own job. That was a conversation for another time… _if ever_.

“I’m an editor at a local publisher,” she said easily before her brow scrunched together. “What about you?”

“Bodyguard,” he grunted. _Not a lie_. “You pulled a face, everything okay at work?” he deflected.

Her eyes widened a bit, was she surprised he’d noticed or that he’d asked? Maybe it was something else entirely. “Yeah…” she trailed off. “I was just assigned…something impossible…and my job’s on the line,” she hesitated. Tora waited, having realized that she usually just needed a bit of time to gather her thoughts. “My client is looking for a writer to finish the book his wife started before she passed…” she exhaled slowly, “but he’s demanding a writer I don’t have any connections with and…” she stopped.

She turned suddenly in her seat to wave down the bartender from the other end of the room. When he didn’t see her, Tora raised an arm and shouted, “oi!” Poppy smiled and whispered a quick thanks to him as the bartender trotted down the length of the bar toward them.

“Could I trouble you for a shot of vodka please?”

 _Holy shit_. “Damn, Bobby.”

She turned to look at him, shrugging. “I mean, this is why I came out after all. Dene was going to grab a couple drinks with me since it’s hopeless.” The bartender returned with her shot and Tora mouthed _my tab_ to him.

He watched as she pitched the drink back into her mouth, her throat moving slowly as she swallowed. “Why ya think it’s so hopeless? I’m sure ya good at ya job.”

She smiled at him for a second, then bit the inside of her mouth. “This guy wants me to get Q.B. Noyouko to ghostwrite his wife’s memoir. And that is just not gonna happen,” she finished.

Tora’s mouth fell open. _No fuckin’ way._ She needed _Quincey_? What were the odds? Tora didn’t believe in coincidences, but Quincey’s penname was so entirely distinct from his real identity, there was no way this could be some kind of clan shit. Could it?

He saw her glancing back at the other end of the bar, as if considering ordering another shot.

“Whoa there, hamster. Why don’t ya let that one hit ya before ya order another,” he said. “So, this Noyouko—”

“Oh!” she turned toward him. “Sorry, I don’t know why I assumed you’d know him.”

 _Pfft, pfft,_ Tora snorted, resisting the urge to roll his eyes. “Yeah, I know him, sweetheart.”

She looked at him in shock, eyes pulled wide and brows high on her forehead. “ _You_ , Tora the Bodyguard, are familiar with Q.B. Noyouko, the world-famous romance and erotica writer.” Her cheeks blushed faintly as she said the word “erotica” but otherwise kept a straight face.

He laughed, “not what I said, Bobby.”

“Is too what you said,” she quipped back.

“Nah, Bobby, I said I know him.”

She rolled her eyes. “Mmhmm, right.” She spun her shot glass against the bar top, “and I know Bigfoot.”

He smirked, “difference is Qui—Noyouko exists,” he caught himself, just barely. “And I know him.” He could see a mix of emotions at war on her face, mostly hope and suspicion. “Swear to whatever the fuck ya want. On my life,” he dragged his pinky in an X over his heart.

“No, not good enough,” she said, reaching out to grab his wrist. She pulled his hand to her and held out her own pinky finger. “You pinky promise?” she asked seriously.

“Ya for real?”

“Yeah, I’m for real.” She stared him down, _fuck_ , no one had ever looked at him like that. He let his smile fall into a neutral expression.

“Yeah, Bobby. Pinky promise.” He gripped her little finger in his, _shit, she was tiny_.

When she released his hand, she let out a heavy exhale. “You’re really serious, aren’t you?”

“Never lied to ya, sweetheart,” he said truthfully. She stared at him, unmoving but for the rise and fall of her chest. “Ya wanna meet him?” he asked, already knowing the answer.

Her eyes lit up and he watched her swallow. “Tora, really? You’d do that for me?”

“Course,” he nodded. He watched as she beamed at him before continuing, “but it’s gonna cost ya.”

He watched her smile falter. She narrowed her eyes as she studied him warily, “alright, you thug, what do you want?” 

Tora took a chance and smirked. “Sleep with me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 😏😏😏😏😏😏😏😏😏
> 
> Chapter 6: will she take him up on his offer????????


	6. Gravity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Does Poppy have an answer for Tora?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another long(ish) one! If you're someone who likes listening suggestions, I wrote the opening section listening to Khalid's "Alive"--most of the time I either write cycling through the album on repeat or alternating between "Paradise" and "Alive." 
> 
> I cannot thank you all enough for your incredibly sweet comments. I see them all and get all weepy and then my partner looks at me all concerned and I don't even have words to explain to him why I'm laugh-cry-snorting in the best way. Much love to you all.
> 
> As always, characters belong to the real MVP Lilydusk, brilliant creator of Midnight Poppy Land. Support her on Patreon! https://www.patreon.com/lilydusk
> 
> Ah! My bad--forgot to mention when I first uploaded: slight NSFW

**Chapter 6**

Poppy felt her smile fall an inch. She wasn’t sure whether or not to believe that he actually held the solution to her impossible problem, but Tora hadn’t given her a reason _not_ to trust him. Yet. She could practically hear Erdene slurring _all men are piiiigs_ from the night Poppy had turned 21. _Fuck. them. all,_ she’d pressed a finger to Poppy’s nose with each word for emphasis before she’d leaned closer and whispered conspiratorially, _literally_.

But this man had _pinky promised_. And from the look in his eyes, the way he’d grown serious when he realized she wasn’t playing, the gesture hadn’t been a placation. She still hardly knew him, but from what she did, Poppy had a feeling Tora was a man of his word.

She narrowed her eyes at him, taking in the way his amber stare flicked from her throat to her eyes to her lips before settling back to meet her gaze. She’d learned that his face was actually quite expressive when he let his guard down. She’d noticed since the men in the suits had left that he’d relaxed considerably, even switching positions with her rather than feeling the need to shield her from the rest of the room with his broad upper body. At first, she’d wondered if he’d been trying to protect her from Elijah, but the man had clearly left long ago. It had to be the men gathered around the lounge tables, she decided. She’d made eye contact with one of them as he left—the one with the facial piercings. He’d seemed particularly interested in Tora, Poppy was pretty sure he’d frowned. But that’d been right before she snuck a sip of Tora’s drink, after which she’d been having too much fun with him to think about anything else.

She’d even learned he had dimples. _Dimples_ , for fudging sake. It was stupidly unfair how attractive he was, the way he seemed to pull her to him as though by his own gravitational pull. She’d caught herself leaning toward him subconsciously many times over the course of the past couple hours that they’d been talking at Chevy’s bar. But had it just been talking? Or— _no._ She wouldn’t allow herself to entertain the notion that his flirtation was anything serious to him. If anything, she’d made a fool of herself multiple times, even throwing herself on top of him. He’d had to pull a knee up to block her and had angled his body away from her entirely a couple times. _Shoot_ , she was getting ahead of herself. There was a task at hand: land a contract with Q.B. Noyouko, and Tora had offered to help…for a price.

“Alright, you thug, what do you want?”

There was a split second after the words had left Poppy’s mouth where Tora’s face had remained neutral, his lips a straight (if slightly downturned) line, his brow smooth and eyes carefully trained on her face. She could see him make a calculation in his eyes. He smirked.

“Sleep with me.”

Poppy’s mouth went dry as her lips parted and she felt a blush rush out from the apples of her cheeks, moving quickly down her neck. He was watching her intently, noting every change, every movement. Drinking in the way her body reacted to him, to the thought of his body on hers, to the idea that she hadn’t imagined the desire in his eyes when she’d leaned against his torso, when his lips had been mere inches from her own. _He couldn’t be serious_. She needed some air.

Her tongue darted out of its own volition to lick her suddenly dry lips and she watched as he followed its movement with his eyes. He breathed, “fuck, Bobby.” She wouldn’t admit it, but she’d quickly grown accustomed to his nickname for her born out of an exchange she could only really describe as shameless flirtation. She’d been pretty sure that his interest in her at the liquor store had stemmed from boredom or a lack of any other options, but there had been many moments tonight when she’d thought maybe…

 _Focus, Poppylan_. She broke away from his eyes. Her career hung in the balance between failure and this one shot at success he’d presented like some deus ex machina. But he wouldn’t help her unless she slept with him? Despite the way that he looked like a playboy, Poppy had a feeling deep in her gut that he was still testing her boundaries, pushing to see how far she’d give. _Not_ that _far, tiger. At least not now_ , she thought. And what the fudge, she could push, too. She’d been able to fluster him a couple of times that night—nowhere near as much as he’d been able to tease a blush straight from her center—but still, it meant she could do it again. And darn it, she needed to land this contract. 

“How do I know this is a for sure thing?” she asked him. “You know, that you’re not just lying to me to get in my…” she glanced down, “skirt.” He huffed a silent laugh, “or that you’re not just in this for the chase.”

“The chase?” he tilted his head slightly. “What, ya think ya faster than me?” He smirked at her, “you’d be the one doin’ the chasin’, sweetheart.”

“That a challenge?”

She watched a kind of shudder run through the muscles in his forehead before his eyebrows pulled up slightly—almost like he’d lost a mental fight against his own body, failing to control his facial features at her dare. “Shit, Bobby—don’t tell me ya wanna race.”

“In these?” she gestured at her heels, kicking her feet toward him, “Have to take a—” Tora reached out suddenly, impossibly fast as he gracefully caught one of her ankles. He lean forward, elbows against his knees, holding her foot lightly one-handed between his legs. “—r-raincheck.”

He rubbed a thumb over the thin strap buckled around her ankle, “yeah,” he agreed. “Wouldn’t wanna take these off just yet.” He watched her, awaiting her next move.

She was positive he was flirting, could feel it between her thighs as she felt herself grow damper. She had never been the object of anyone’s attention like this before. Tora seemed to note the quality of each breath she took, every twitch of her lips, even the way she shifted imperceptibly in her seat—it was like her body spoke a language of its own and, whereas she’d just discovered its existence, he’d been fluent from the moment he met her, towering over the shelves in the aisle over.

She needed to throw him, but how? The man seemed to anticipate every line she threw at him. That or he thought so quick on his feet that it just _seemed_ like he was one step ahead of her. Maybe he was just a phenomenal dancer.

“You know, I was with my ex for a while and he had to wait a real long time,” she said, technically not a lie, though she’d definitely made it sound like they’d eventually at some point in this lifetime slept together, which they certainly hadn’t, _thank goodness_. “What’s the longest you’ve ever held back?”

“I hold back every day, sweetheart,” he said trailing his thumb up her ankle. “I can be incredibly patient.” He released her foot gently, letting it swing back to her.

She narrowed her eyes at him, watching as he put a foot down on the ground, bracing himself as he lifted his hips to dig out the phone from his back pocket which had buzzed a couple of times pressed between his jeans and the leather. Poppy’s eyes couldn’t help but dip to his waist as his movements thrust his pelvis into the space between them that had grown even smaller when he grabbed her foot.

And then something shifted. She could feel the air around him run cold as his jaw worked furiously, thumbs quickly tapping the screen before he locked it, shoving the device back down into his jeans. This time, the movement was sharp, no longer displaying his body for her as though he’d known she’d been eyeing him hungrily just moments before.

“Shit, sweetheart,” he ran a hand through his hair until his fingers snagged in his half-bun. “Wish we could tango tonight, but somethin’ just came up.”

Poppy watched as he raised a hand toward the other end of the bar, signaling to the bartender with an index finger extended limply. He lifted his hips again—this time in the other direction—to fish out a slim black wallet that seemed to hold just a few cards and a couple folded bills. He pulled out the paper money—two crisp hundreds folded down the middle. Holding one between his index and middle finger, he held it up toward the bartender who nodded at him from the other end as Tora slipped the bill under the empty glass of strawberry juice they’d shared. Poppy tried to keep her face expressionless as she watched how casually he’d just overpaid—and overpaid by a lot, seemingly unfazed.

He stood then, tucking his wallet back into his jeans, and extended a hand toward Poppy. She grasped his palm, his skin warm and rough against her own, as she hopped down from the stool and turned to grab her jacket where it had slipped from her shoulders. But Tora beat her to it, motioning for her to spin around as he held the garment open for her. She smiled shyly in silent thanks, taking care not to smudge the ointment all over the inside of the blazer as she slid her arms into the sleeves, first her right then her left. As she adjusted the collar, she felt the backs of Tora’s hands skim the skin at the base of her neck as he carefully pulled her braid out from under the blazer, laying it gently down her back. She felt herself blush and couldn’t help but smile at his touch, surprisingly tender for a man who could seem so intimidating at first glance. He brought his left hand to the top of her shoulder, a thumb resting on the back of her neck beneath the blazer. His right hand had slipped to the end of her braid and he tugged gently until she leaned her head back to meet his eyes above her. He was just as attractive upside down, Poppy thought, and she smiled as he bent, brushing his lips lightly against her forehead. He murmured something against her skin, and she caught what sounded like her name as he stood back up, grabbing her purse from off the bar and holding it out for her.

She took it gingerly, lifting the strap over her head before he reached down and took her hand, leading her out toward the lobby. For some reason, it felt like a weight had settled over her chest—she hadn’t wanted to say goodnight so soon, though she noted they must have been talking for hours. She gazed through the large, gold, windowed door at the entrance to Chevy’s, the dark violet sky pulled like a blanket over the city. Tora held the door open for her, his hand briefly slipping from hers before they were both standing on the other side in the cool night air, his palm warm around her fingers again. With his right hand, he hailed a blue cab that had been idling outside the restaurant, waiting for any patrons sad enough to be out this late on a Tuesday. As the driver shifted into gear and pulled toward them slowly, Poppy looked up at a small moving light that’d caught her eye.

“Tora, look!” she tugged at the palm that held her fingers, her other hand coming up to clutch the inside of his forearm. “A shooting a star.”

Tora followed her gaze up to the sky, tilting his head back slightly and frowning. “Bobby, that’s a satellite.”

She huffed, _way to kill the mood, tiger_. “How can you be so sure?”

He glanced back down at her, finding her eyes in the soft glow of the sconces along the wall of the building. She’d expected him to say something, confident he had a retort on the tip of his tongue, but Tora pressed his lips together and swallowed.

She let a couple seconds elapse before she turned back to the sky, searching for a moment before her eyes locked back on the star, suddenly overwhelmed by the vulnerability she’d glimpsed in his eyes. “My dad always told me to make a wish,” she said softly, not trusting herself to look away from the deep violet expanse above them. She felt Tora turn to look back up at the sky, aware of how heavy her fingers felt in his grasp.

“Oh yeah? What else ya wish on, Bobby?”

She breathed a laugh, “tons of things,” she said. “Birthday candles, lady bugs, eyelashes…” she ticked them off slowly, tapping her index finger against his palm with each one. “Rainbows, fountains, the moon…” she heard him chuckle gently.

“Well, shit, Bobby. That’s a lot of wishin’ for one hamster.”

She squeezed his forearm, relieved he’d taken the bait. “ _Pfft,_ you’re missing your chance,” she said, nodding toward the star as it moved easily behind a cloud then out the other side.

She peeked over at him. Tora was staring at the sky, his brow pulled toward the bridge of his nose just slightly before he sighed. “We should get ya home, sweetheart,” he said turning to look at her. She quickly flicked her eyes back to the star, hoping he hadn’t caught her looking at him. She let him pull her gently toward the blue cab, a small hatchback with a friendly looking middle-aged man in the driver’s seat who tipped his hat to the couple. As they approached, he flicked his headlights on, casting the side of Tora’s face closest to her in shadow. He looked like a Rembrandt as he bent slightly to open the back door. He tucked himself through the door, one knee on the seat, reaching toward the cabbie and handed him the other bill. “Get her home safe,” he said as the cabbie reached around and took the money in surprise. “Rest is yours.”

Tora pulled himself back out from the darkness of the cab, turning to face Poppy. _Why did this feel so final?_ She smiled up at him but could feel that it stopped well short of her eyes.

 _Pfft_ , Tora touched a thumb to her forehead, smoothing the skin that had crumpled between her eyebrows. “Don’t be a stranger, Bobby,” he said, smirking softly down at her.

She nodded, not trusting her voice, and moved to push gently past him when he suddenly grasped her, crushing her to his chest in a bear hug. Poppy quickly wrapped her arms around his torso, holding onto him as though if she were to let go, he’d slip away like a ghost on the breeze. She squeezed her eyes tight and inhaled deeply, her nose pressed firmly into his side as one of his broad palms came to rest gently on the crown of her head. He smelled faintly of cigarettes and musk, of earth and morning mist. She could feel him touch his nose to her hair as his chest expanded on a deep inhale. She had only met him a handful of days ago, and yet it felt like she had known him a lifetime. He gently patted her back twice and she knew it was time. She nodded against his chest, taking one last inhale, hands fisting in the back of his jacket before she loosened her grip, letting her arms drop gently to her sides before she turned to climb into the car.

When she turned to look at him, Tora brought a thumb to her chin briefly before he stepped out from the open door, softly closing her into the car with the cabbie.

“Where to, miss?” he asked her, turning down the talk radio station he’d been playing. She hadn’t even noticed the other voices, so focused had she been on the mysterious man in the superman jacket.

She spoke her address, her eyes on Tora’s as the cab pulled away. She turned around in her seat to watch as his figure grew smaller, unmoving from the place she’d left him, until they turned a corner and suddenly, he was gone.

Poppy turned back around to face the front of the cab, reaching over to buckle her seat in a daze. _What had just happened?_

“You mind the radio on?” the cabbie asked from the front as he threw his blinker on, pulling up at the stoplight of a deserted intersection.

“It’s fine, thanks for asking,” Poppy said.

“Let me know if you need the heat adjusted, s’a little chilly tonight,” he offered as the light turned green and he maneuvered onto the cross street. Poppy leaned her head against the window, the glass cool on her temple. She closed her eyes, letting the hum of the voices on the radio lull her until her shoulders finally released from where she’d held them by her ears since breaking away from Tora’s fierce embrace. Her stomach flipped, thinking of his eyes as he’d smirked at her, _sleep with me_.

She put a hand up to her chest, fingers resting softly against the hollow at her throat. She could feel her heart pulsing quick against her palm and when she finally opened her eyes, the cab was pulling to a stop in front of her building’s gate.

“Thank you so much,” she said leaning forward hesitantly, “…do I…owe you anything?” she’d seen Tora slip the man the other large bill he’d been carrying, but it’d be rude to assume.

The man chuckled, “no, miss,” he shook his head gently at her. “Your boyfriend took care of it.” She felt her cheeks flush, but she didn’t correct the man as she smiled to herself, “hey, tell him thanks for me—it’s more in tips than I usually make in a week.”

Her stomach fluttered, “I will. Thanks again.”

Poppy opened the door, stepping out onto the street as she dug her phone out of her purse, wrestling to remove it without also pulling out the bottle of hand sanitizer wedged tight against the inner pocket she was never able to use due to how little space there was once her phone was stuffed into the main pocket. _Fudge_ , she poked around once her phone was in hand, realizing she must have left the ointment at the bar. _From when she’d practically climbed him. Oh jeez._ She blushed at the memory, walking to the keypad near the security booth. She entered her code, glancing over at the window of the booth, making eye contact with the man who sat inside. He was always grumpy, and she wasn’t surprised when he didn’t return her wave. She turned from him, rolling her eyes and shutting the gate behind her.

As she climbed the stairs to her building, Poppy absent-mindedly dragged her fingers over her tattoo, the jacket acting as a barrier between her hand and the healing patch of skin. He was right, it was much more satisfying than the slaps Gyu had recommended. _Gyu_ , she wondered how the two knew each other. Tora had referred to him as Ronzo, perhaps another name? A nickname? Tora didn’t seem like the type to use nicknames, but clearly his appearance wasn’t at all an indicator of his personality, after all, in just the span of a handful of hours, he’d given her two. Three, if she counted _sweetheart_. Unlocking the door to her apartment, she smiled as she remembered the way his voice dipped lower whenever he said it.

As she put her bag down, Poppy’s stomach growled loudly. _Oh right_ , she hadn’t eaten before she’d left work, having assumed she and Erdene would grab a couple drinks and head their separate ways before the sun went down. She sighed, flipping on her phone’s lock screen to check the time—nearly midnight. _How’d it gotten so late?_ She had to be up in just seven hours to get ready for work and return to hunting down any leads she could on Noyouko. She braced one hand against the door as she leaned to unbuckle her heels, shivering as she remembered the last person who had touched these straps, the look of hunger he’d aimed up at her, _I can be incredibly patient_. She wondered if that was true. If he was just after one thing, she couldn’t be sure how long he’d stick around.

Poppy finished toeing off her shoes, delighting in the relief at having her feet flat on the floor again. It felt like her heels were sinking through the throw rug as she walked across the room to deposit her purse on the low desk beside her laptop. She walked through the open doorway to the nook that served as her bedroom, carefully sliding her jacket down over her tattoo. The ointment had mostly absorbed into her skin. She didn’t have another tube lying around, having received the last one from Erdene. Maybe she could dig up some unscented lotion from…somewhere. _Hmm_. Well, she sighed pulling the hem of her tank top free from her skirt, if worse came to worse she could always just pat the tattoo down with water and hope that it helped to soothe the dry skin that would inevitably begin peeling again after her shower. Poppy could almost laugh at the absurdity of the night. Just, what, five hours ago Elijah had been pestering her, telling her to do exactly what she was now considering as a last resort come to fruition: using water to fix the problem.

If only she could throw water at her career problem and magically grow a famous ghostwriter like one of her many potted plants. She sat on the edge of her bed, slowly untwisting her French braid as she thought again of the way Tora had smirked at her, the tips of his teeth peeking out from behind the corner of his lip, _sleep with me_. She took a deep breath and told herself once again that he couldn’t possibly be serious, falling back against her bed and pressing the heels of her palms against her eyes. It’s not like she was saving herself for marriage or anything of the sort, she’d just never wanted to sleep with Julri, and before him—well, there _was_ no “before” Julri. They’d gotten together in high school and she’d only just broken up with him. Short of cheating, which she would never do even to a jerk like Julri, the opportunity to be intimate with another person had simply never presented itself. She brought her hands down to her stomach, the slight pressure making the organ growl at her again. _Yeah, yeah_ , she thought, taking a deep breath.

 _Sleep with me_. Poppy let one hand slip down to the dip in her skirt where her thighs met, the back of her thumb rubbing softly against the material, pushing gently until she felt her crotch buzz against the friction. _I can be incredibly patient_. Her other hand twitched where it rested on the swell of her stomach and she brought it slowly up to flutter across her chest, nipples tightening against the faint touch through the two layers of fabric. She arched her back slightly, feeling the back of her cheeky boyshorts ride up, pressing against her outer lips. “Mmm,” she hummed softly as she twisted her wrist outwards, switching from rubbing with the back of her thumb to the heel of her hand, her pressure firm as she rocked her hips slowly. _If ya use a barrier and go light_ …Poppy tried to ease the pressure of her hand, but it was impossible to keep the same delicious friction without pressing. She could hear the kiss of her outer lips as she ground against her hand, wetness seeping through the lining of her underwear. Her neck flushed with heat as she felt her inner muscles begin to pulse. Her back arched, a quiet whine escaping her throat as her tongue curved around his name.

Poppy felt herself relax into the mattress, remembering the way her body had melted against his, the feel of his abdomen against the soft flesh of her back, firm. Grounding. Safe. Her eyelids fluttered shut. Moments later, her phone buzzed.

*

“Poppylan. Wilkes.” Poppy jumped slightly, fingers still gripped around the handle of the glass door to Giant Goldfish. She hadn’t even stepped over the threshold from the elevator lobby into the welcome area of the office suite before Erdene had closed a hand tightly around her friend’s other wrist, dragging her toward Poppy’s cubicle.

“Dene, it’s too early for this,” Poppy groaned around a yawn she quickly tried to hide in her shoulder.

When they’d reached the cubicle, Erdene led Poppy around the desk and pushed her down into the wheelie chair, swiveling her friend around before leaning close to her face, her long arms boxing Poppy against the seat, one hand braced on either arm rest. “You have some explaining to do,” Erdene whispered, a spark of barely contained excitement in her bright eyes. They were nearly nose-to-nose and Erdene was breathing heavily.

“Dene, what are you talking about?” she asked, sincerely confused. “I haven’t even had coffee yet, jeez louise.”

Erdene narrowed her eyes and a grin slid up her face. Poppy leaned her head further back until she hit the head rest and then her breath left her all at once as Erdene whispered rather loudly, “Who the fuck is Tora?”

Poppy’s eyes widened before she could stop them and she felt a blush steal across her cheeks, burning even brighter as Erdene noticed and smiled even wider.

“Biiiiiiitch, what the hell’re you hiding?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Poppy shook her head, looking past Erdene at a flash of movement over her friend’s shoulder. Jacob had paused to take in the scene on his way to his desk in the corner. “Jacob!” Poppy nearly shouted in relief—she could usually count on him to help her manage Erdene’s intensity.

“Oh no you don’t,” Erdene tightened her grip on the arm rests as Poppy tried to wiggle past her, surprisingly strong for her bony frame. She turned over her shoulder and barked, “Jacob, don’t just stand there. Bring it here!”

Poppy watched in horror as Jacob quickly ran out of sight, reappearing suddenly with a box Poppy would recognize anywhere—he’d presumably fetched the offending object off Erdene’s desk. Poppy’s eyes widened even further in recognition, and yet, she wanted desperately to see his handwritten note again. Tangible evidence that she hadn’t imagined that night at the liquor store or their time together at Chevy’s. Proof she had not simply dreamed the last week up from the depths of her overactive, erotica-fueled imagination.

“Gotcha, bitch,” Erdene smiled triumphantly as Jacob joined them in the cubicle, turning the box until Tora’s handwriting stared back at her, the scribble just where she’d remembered it. She almost laughed with relief. _Stupid, Poppylan, of course you didn’t make it all up_. Which meant…maybe she hadn’t imagined the way he’d clutched her to his chest as though she were his life raft in a storm. Poppy gulped audibly and Erdene seized on her body’s betrayal. “So, you _do_ know what I’m talking about,” Erdene jiggled the arms of the chair with excitement.

“Erdene…” Poppy quickly maneuvered her way under one of her friend’s arms, backing up until her butt hit the desk at the window of her cubicle. From behind her, she heard Pudge peck a couple times against the glass at the sudden disturbance. “Dene, it’s not what you think.”

Erdene rounded on her, her chest heaving slightly with excitement. Jacob still clutched the empty wine box, his eyes darting back and forth between the two women. “Oh, and what is it that I think?” Erdene asked, still smiling.

Poppy swallowed, licking her lips as she prepared to lie, sort of. “It’s a lead on Noyouko.” Erdene blinked, her shoulders slumping slightly on a quick exhale.

“What do you mean?”

“That’s _good news_ , Dene,” Poppy forced herself to roll her eyes, desperate to throw her friend off the scent of blood in the water. Her chest squeezed uncomfortably, _he was so much more than that._ She couldn’t let on to Erdene, though. Her friend, though well-meaning, had been over-eager in trying to set Poppy up on blind dates in the couple of days between the time she’d showed up at her door on Friday night and when she’d last seen her in the office Tuesday morning, despite having reassured Poppy she was fully supportive of her friend’s decision to take a break from dating, needing time to be on her own. A young, independent career woman. They seemed to view dating from complete opposite ends of the spectrum, whereas Erdene was a free spirit, unattached yet incredibly active in her sex life, Poppy’d always considered the long term. Not just where a person fit into her life in the moment, but where they might fit into her life a couple years down the road as well. No matter how much she’d tried to explain her need for a strong emotional connection to Erdene, her friend still didn’t seem to really understand. What she had with Tora— _what did she have with Tora?_ —whatever it may be, was like a delicate seedling. Sure, it might root, but the chances that it’d fail to germinate were so much higher. The risk was too high, she decided.

“What’s with the wine box?” Erdene pushed, “and that’s definitely not your handwriting.” She frowned skeptically.

“Just a note to myself, Dene,” she said. “Overheard someone while I was at the liquor store and asked them to put me in touch with their friend who works at a firm up north. Sorry to get your hopes up,” she continued, watching Erdene’s face fall. _Oh fudgesicle_ , she hated lying, prided herself on never doing it. But desperate times… “Like I said, though,” she continued as Jacob quietly put the wine box down on her desk and backed out of the cubicle, “this is a _good_.” The end of the sentence left her mouth as a plea and Erdene met her eyes.

“Shit,” she said softly, “I’m sorry, Pops. You know I get carried away, I was just excited you might’ve had a little meet-cute,” she sighed.

Poppy schooled her expression in a way she thought would have given Tora a run for his money. “It’s fine, Dene,” she said. “Actually, it’s good because I do need that number,” she walked over to the box, moving it to the other side of the cubicle and set it on top of a stack of her unicorn notebooks. It was one last small lie— _harmless_ , she told herself. She didn’t need the number, in fact, she’d woken up that morning to a text Tora had sent her after she’d fallen asleep last night. She wanted the box.

Jacob poked his head into the cubicle again, “hey, I gotta meet Mr. Rose for a consult about finding a ghostwriter for his memoir,” he began, but trailed off when both Poppy and Erdene gave him blank stares. “We went over this last week, you remember,” he insisted, waving one of his hands in a circle and glancing behind him at the front door to the office, “book about the time he spent roughing it with his family in the States,” he looked back at them, “up a creek without a paddle, so to speak. Real picky guy,” he finished with a sigh as Poppy breathed an _ah_ and Erdene nodded her head. “Anyway, the meeting’s set for 9, he’s usually at least a half hour late, but Dene, I’m gonna need you to tag team—he already wants to discuss covers and we haven’t even got the damn thing written.”

Erdene nodded as he again looked at the door before glancing down at his watch. “Pops, would you mind running out for some coffee—it’s gotta be Starbucks, he doesn’t drink anything else.” Poppy nodded, grateful to have something to do that wouldn’t allow Erdene to keep pushing about Tora.

“I can go with her,” Erdene volunteered, already pushing past Jacob to grab her bag from her cubicle.

“Deeeene,” he followed after her, “don’t you think that’s cutting it close? It’s already almost 8:30.”

Poppy listened to them bicker as she put her bag back on and checked her phone. She opened her messages, smiling at the few texts she and Tora had sent back and forth that morning after she’d woken up groggy, but still thinking of him. Erdene rounded the corner and Poppy quickly locked her phone. “Hey, I have to stop by the drugstore, too,” she said, the skin on her shoulder had puckered and cracked while she slept and the water from her hasty morning shower had only kept the skin hydrated for a couple minutes.

Erdene nodded, smiling as she typed something out on her phone. “For sure, for sure,” she looked up as Poppy brushed past her headed for the door, determined to keep a quick pace—hopefully she could make this quick and keep her friend distracted enough not to ask too many questions about the wine box. Her father had always told her, “Poppy, if you tell the truth you won’t have to remember anything.” _Should have listened_ , she thought with a grimace.

The drugstore was a quick walk around the corner. It was one of the things she liked about working in the city—everything was walking distance or a quick bus ride away. Erdene had been chatting about the different zine covers Gil had asked her to draft up, spending most of the walk looking down at her phone every couple of seconds when it buzzed. Poppy chose not to ask her about it on the off chance that her friend would deflect and search out a topic she knew would distract Poppy: the Noyouko project. That or Tora, but the two were more connected than she knew.

“This’ll be quick, Dene,” Poppy said as she reached for the door to the drugstore, “I just need—” she’d pushed against the door and had nearly slammed her head into the glass as the door failed to budge. “What the—” Behind her, Erdene laughed at her expense and Poppy rolled her eyes as she grasped the handle and pulled the door open. “So helpful of you, Dene,” she deadpanned as she entered the store, “so glad you came.”

“Pops, you do that damn near _every time_ ,” her friend laughed. “Hooooow?” Erdene wheezed, doubled over against the door but unable to advance into the store. Poppy had stopped short just inside the entrance as her eyes locked on the amber gaze of the man standing at the checkout counter, a bill extended toward the clerk and a smile threatening to break across his face. Her face flushed as she realized he’d clearly, for the second time in one week, just watched her walk into a door. Poppy quickly reached behind her and grabbed Erdene’s hand, pulling her friend down the closest aisle, but not soon enough.

“Fuck meeee,” she practically moaned as Poppy dragged her away from the counter and the front entrance. “Pops,” Erdene turned her head so she could keep her eyes on Tora who had turned back to the finish his transaction at the counter. “Poppy, did you see that hot piece of _ass_ at the counter,” she whispered, stumbling slightly as Poppy pulled her faster. _This was not happening._ She heard Erdene mutter something about a fuckable stallion and felt a surge of relief as she spotted the first aid aisle. Problem was, it was toward the front of the store where, sneaking a glance, she could see Tora was still at the counter. _Oh fudge_. She considered for a moment simply leaving without the ointment. Sure, it’d be a long day, and she’d planned on staying late to do more research on Noyouko, but— _no, who was she kidding_. It would be unbearable not being able to moisturize her tattoo. Tora’s trick only helped so much as she’d discovered that morning on her commute to work.

Poppy turned to face the front of the store, Erdene still babbling about the _hottie with a body_. “Dene, I just need ointment and then we can go—we only have a little time before we have to be back with the coffee,” she said, hoping to distract her friend from thirsting after the man that made her stomach flip for reasons that went far beyond his muscles. And her friend was a catch with far more experience and worlds more to offer. Was it so wrong that Poppy wanted to keep him to herself? They reached the first aid section, and Poppy quickly scanned the shelves for ointment. _Shoot_ , _why did all the labels look the same?_ She glanced up at Tora. He was wearing a dark green long-sleeved tee that hugged his torso and arms along with a pair of dark jeans. _It should be illegal to walk around like that_ , she thought. _But why was he still at the counter_ , she wondered, _hadn’t he been paying when they’d walked in?_

Erdene fell silent as her phone buzzed. “Ah shit,” she said. _Jacob_ , she mouthed at Poppy before answering, “what’s wrong.” Poppy looked back at Tora who had miraculously finished paying and was walking toward the exit. _Was he not going to say hi?_ She tried not to take it personally, after all, her first reaction after seeing him had been to beeline for the spot furthest from him in the store. Still, she couldn’t help the way her heart sank.

“Mhmm, mhmm,” Erdene nodded, absent-mindedly picking up a tube off the shelf. Poppy quickly snatched it from her hand, examining the ingredients to see if it was the same kind as before. She was pretty sure it was. “Okay, calm your tits. I’ll be right there.” Erdene huffed as she hung up. “Jacob’s having a _slight_ meltdown,” she said. “He needs me back now to prep. Do you mind getting the coffees on your own?” she glanced up at Poppy as she started rummaging through her bag.

“Of course,” Poppy said as Erdene handed her a company card. “Lose it and it’s my ass,” she said solemnly before giving her a quick one-armed hug, already moving toward the door Tora had walked through just a minute before. “But for real, don’t lose it,” she called over her shoulder as she pushed the door open.

Poppy sighed. If only she’d come alone…she walked to the counter where the clerk was able to help her immediately, being the only customer in the store. Poppy put the ointment down on the counter and, spotting the single-serve bags of candy at the checkout, slapped a small bag of strawberry Twizzlers beside it. She pried her wallet out of her purse, grateful for the lack of other customers— _should really retire this bag_ , she thought, as she counted out exact change and slid it across the counter. She could barely fit anything in or out of the bag without scattering the contents everywhere. She shoved the company card in the wallet while she had it out and zipped it away back in the bag. She thanked the clerk and made her way to the front door, taking care to read the sign before pushing her way out onto the sidewalk.

“Damn, Bobby, took ya long enough.”

Poppy spun on her heel nearly crashing into Tora, who stood leaning against the building beside the entrance, one leg bent, a sneaker resting on the brick wall. He brought a cigarette to his lips and took a drag, carefully blowing the smoke away from her.

“You waited,” she said.

He pushed off the building, reaching an arm out and tugged her arm gently toward him, moving her out of the doorway as a man made to pull the door open. “Course I waited,” he smirked, “aged ‘bout twenty years, but glad ya finally made it.”

She rolled her eyes, but couldn’t help her smile, “so that makes you just about a hundred now, huh?”

His eyebrows shot up, “ouch, Bobby.” He scratched the back of his neck before suddenly grinning wickedly down at her, “that make me ya elder, then?”

She narrowed her eyes, positive whatever was about to come out of his mouth was intended to make her blush.

He took her silence as a confirmation, “guess that means ya gotta do whatever I say, right?”

Her eyes widened, realizing where this was going.

He took one last drag of his cigarette before stubbing it out on the building and folding it into his pocket. He smirked, blowing the smoke out the side of his mouth, “ya give any thought to my offer.” It came out more a statement than a question, like he knew what she’d done when she’d finally collapsed on her bed last night, like he’d heard his name fall from her mouth as she came. She saw something flash in his eyes and felt heat pool in the lowest part of her belly.

“Walk with me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know that shooting stars are as cliche as they come, but idk idk idk I just want them to be happy fools in loveeeee
> 
> This chapter was so incredibly difficult to write, but the opening is maybe my fave scene so far—I had multiple different iterations of it before landing on this version. The previous ones had been ~~extremely, agonizingly~~ angsty and it was making Tora sad and Poppy sad and me sad. About 3am last night I had an epiphany when I realized that I had the ability to just...make us all a little happier lol 
> 
> Chapter 7: what compelled our dear tiger to the visit a drugstore before 9am anyway?


	7. Double-dipping

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tora is summoned away from his hamster just as things were getting good. Will his wish come true?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another long one, what can I say, these two just won’t stop 😅 Plenty of fluff and angst to go round, ya know cause Tora is Tora. CW for mentions of violence/Vincent being an abusive asshole. Also some wound care, though not graphic cause I'm a queasy bitch 😅 😅 
> 
> I love reading your comments, thank you so much for reading this lil fic!! I’m v v v excited to start on the next chapter tonight 😜 
> 
> As always, characters belong to the real MVP Lilydusk, brilliant creator of Midnight Poppy Land. Support her on Patreon! https://www.patreon.com/lilydusk

**Chapter 7**

“Sleep with me.”

Tora held his breath and watched as a blush spread rapidly from her cheeks down her neck. She was breathing heavy now he noted, and her pupils had dilated just so. _Oh, Bobby_. Was this where she’d draw the line? Fuck, he didn’t want a line at all, wanted to lunge across the space between them and wrap her up in his arms. He’d watched her intently, eyes on fire as she seemed to think over his proposition. _Shit, was she actually considering it?_ He hadn’t known sex was on the table. _Fuck_ , he thought of his apartment— _no. Absolutely no fuckin’ way was he takin’ her back to that dump._ Chevy’s had bathrooms, he considered for a moment— _ya sick bastard_. Hell, Chevy’s bathrooms were as nice as they came—strung out in black and gold, and they were clean, but fuck if he was gonna have her in a goddamn public stall. Not that he was against doin’ the dirty in public, he balls tightened almost painfully as he wondered if she’d like that, but there was no way his first time with Bobby was gonna be where the clan pissed. Maybe she’d invite him to her place. _That could be interesting_ , he thought. But did she trust him enough for that? They’d just fuckin’ met. There was always his car…but shit, it was the same problem as the Chevy’s bathrooms. _Plus guns._ No way in hell. Besides, he realized like a rock to the chest, he didn’t even have a fuckin’ condom. They could do other things though…

Tora watched as she drew her tongue over her lips. _Sweet fuck_ , he wanted to kiss her. She’d been watching him follow her tongue with his eyes, did this hamster know what she was doing? He exhaled through his teeth, “fuck, Bobby.” He tried to convey all his desire into his gaze as he held her eyes, but she broke away. She still hadn’t given him an answer, but he had a feeling he should wait.

Sure enough, “how do I know this is a for sure thing?” _Holy hell, was this actually happening?_ Shit, Tora wondered if there’d be a drugstore open this late on a Tuesday. “You know, that you’re not just lying to me to get in my skirt.”

 _Pfft_ , he practically wheezed. Shit, did she really not know?

“Or that you’re not just in this for the chase,” she drifted off.

 _The…huh?_ “The chase?” His chest tightened, she must not know. He’d only said it to see her blush. Hell, if she wanted to just keep talking ‘til the sun came up, Tora would stay here all night. Fuck sleep. He’d lost plenty nights of sleep in the last twenty-some odd years. “What, ya think ya faster than me?” He pulled his mouth into a smirk, ignoring the buzz of his phone trapped between his ass and the seat, “you’d be the one doin’ the chasin’, sweetheart.”

“That a challenge?”

Tora felt his body react to her blatant step forward right up against the invisible line between them, his mind short-circuiting as he imagined engaging in challenges of the physical kind with her. _Fuckin’ feisty little woman._ Tora could feel all his limbs tingling, excitement rushing through is body. “Shit, Bobby—don’t tell me ya wanna race.”

“In these? Have to take a—” she lightly swung her feet toward him, which he hadn’t fully taken in before. They were so tiny, and delicately strapped into a pair of heels that probably added an extra three or four inches to her height. Holy shit, he needed to hold them, stopping himself short of imagining her in nothing but the strappy things. His hand darted out, catching one of her ankles as he leaned forward bracing his elbows against his knees, spreading his legs wide. “—r-raincheck,” she finished softly.

She’d been wickedly responsive to his advances all night, she could give as good as she got. Tora took another chance, rubbing his thumb slowly, gossamer-light over the thin strap that he noted dug slightly into her flesh. He dragged his eyes up her body to rest on her own, deciding on a line almost as forward as his proposition but slightly less desperate, he hoped. “Yeah, wouldn’t wanna take these off just yet.”

He watched her face, could see the rise and fall of her chest quicken in his peripherals, but he didn’t dare look down. Couldn’t’ve torn his eyes from the centers of those big brown wells even if he’d wanted to. _Goddamn, she’s breathtaking_. Poppy seemed to make a decision, he noticed in the way she slid forward in her seat ever so slightly, sizing him up. Tora felt his phone buzz again, _shit._ Two texts in…how long had it been? Not very. But he couldn’t look away, nothing else existed except for the woman in front of him as he waited.

“You know,” she sucked her bottom lip between her teeth for a moment and Tora felt some of the blood drain from his head, _sweet everloving_ — “I was with my ex for a while and he had to wait a real long time.” Tora’s breath caught in his throat at the mention of his hamster with another man, another _lover_. _Shit_ , he swallowed, trying to focus on the fact that she’d said “ex”—that was the past. Hopefully a very fuckin’ distant past. His chest clenched, _why did he give a shit about who she’d been with before?_ Not like they were… _were what?_ Tora swallowed. “What’s the longest you’ve ever,” her breath hitched slightly, almost unnoticeable, but he noticed everything about this woman, “held back?”

He rubbed her ankle lightly, easing the red indentation where the strap had imprinted against her skin, “I hold back every day, sweetheart. I can be incredibly patient.” _Time to prove it_ , he thought, reluctantly relaxing his hold on her until her foot swung back to rest beside her other. _After all, restraint is half the fun,_ he’d been about to say as he felt his phone buzz again. He stopped himself from clenching his jaw. _Just his motherfuckin’ shit luck_ , there were really only two people who’d have a reason to text him at this hour, and both meant his time with Bobby would be cut painfully, abruptly short. He pressed a heel to the ground, lifting his ass to get at his phone, moving a little slower than necessary as he saw Poppy’s eyes rake from where his foot was planted against the black and white tiles all the way up to his shoulders, pausing briefly at his groin.

 _Take a picture, Bobby, it’ll last longer_ , he’d thought with a slight smirk just as he finally glanced down, unlocking his phone with his thumb. _No_. He swallowed, trying desperately to control his face as he swiped the screen, quickly opening the conversation with Vincent.

@Vincent: Martin says you should have finished your run hours ago.

@Vincent: Midnight.

@Vincent: Don’t be late.

Tora swallowed once, then twice. His tongue sandpapered against the roof of his mouth, the ghost of his last sip of strawberry juice coated the backs of his teeth uncomfortably. _Fuck,_ he forced a breath, stilling his hands as he typed.

@Tora: on my way

He raised a hip suddenly, shoving his phone back into his pocket. _Goddamnit to fuckin’ hell_ , he needed a smoke, the feeling like a train to his chest as he realized how long it’d been. He’d been so distracted he hadn’t even noticed that his fingers hadn’t itched once for the pack in his jacket. And it’d been hours. _That was new_. “Shit, sweetheart,” he ran his fingers through his hair, anything to occupy his hands. _Fuckin’ addict piece of shit_ , he thought. _Ya weak, she doesn’t fuckin’ deserve ya_. He swallowed again, forcing his voice steady, “wish we could tango tonight, but somethin’ just came up.”

He glanced behind her, raising a hand to the bartender who jerked his head once in acknowledgment. He’d seen how late it was when he’d texted Vincent—he didn’t have time to lose if he wanted to make sure she got home okay. Tora shifted his weight to his other leg, digging in the pocket on the other side of his ass for his wallet. He hesitated for half a breath before he flipped the wallet around to extract the two bills folded against the piece of paper he always carried with him. It’d take too fuckin’ long to close out with a card, and shit, he wanted to savor every single one of these last few moments with this woman. No way in hell was he waiting around to sign a fuckin’ receipt. Tora separated the two bills, holding one up toward the other end of the bar before tucking it under the empty glass where he could still see the imprints of where their mouths had overlapped along the rim. He felt something burn at the base of his throat, _fuck_ , he hadn’t felt _that_ in a while, but knowing what followed, he sure as shit wasn’t gonna wait around the semi-bright lights of the bar for her to witness him cry.

Tora stood, tucking his wallet tight against his ass with one hand and extending his other toward Poppy. Her fingers were a whisper against his palm and he tightened his grip until she squeezed him back, jumping down from the barstool as she turned to grab her jacket. He reached around her, hand closing on the bright cotton and twirling an index finger at her. He watched a small smile steal across her face as she turned and carefully drew the garment up her arms from where he held it open for her. The fuck did Vince have to call him back now _, why couldn’t he have this night, just this one._ He watched her small fingers reach up to adjust the collar and he couldn’t stop himself even if he’d wanted to as he reached down to lift her braid from between the jacket and her shirt. The twist of her hair was heavier than he’d expected and he wondered as though from a distance how she’d learned to tie it back like that. He placed a palm on her non-tattooed shoulder, resting his thumb against her vertebrae at the base of her neck, _so fragile_. He was no good for her, the proximity of the clan earlier tonight weighing on his shoulders like an omen that he quickly tried to shake off. He ran the end of her braid through his fingers, tugging gently on the end until her head bent back, his thumb supporting her spinal column. He watched her smile softly and couldn’t stop the curve of his back as he bent, pressing his lips light against her forehead, “I’m so sorry, Poppylan.”

He stood back up, reaching to grab her purse from the bar. For a moment, he considered carrying it for her, but he wasn’t sure if it’d cross a line, _wasn’t that shit boyfriends did?_ His chest thumped at the thought. _Boyfriend_. Which would make her his…

He slid his hand into hers once she had the strap nestled across her chest, a slight indent between her tits that Tora forced himself to ignore. He led her through the lobby of Chevy’s in a fog, _was the night really over?_ It’d flashed past him in just a couple of moments. _Don’t be fuckin’ stupid_ , he thought. His night was far from over.

His hand slipped from hers as he opened the door to the street, holding it open as she passed by him, and he quickly wrapped his palm around her fingers once they were outside. It’d gotten dark—not surprising, but where had the time gone? It felt unreal that just a handful of hours ago he’d been on the drive back from the southeastern border of the city, his thoughts cemented on his final pick up before he’d be able to unload on a punching bag. This woman must be a fuckin’ witch, he thought smiling softly, she made time stand still and yet entire hours slid easily by when he was with her. Time meant nothing with her and the ever-present thoughts of clan life dulled to a background buzz.

Tora glanced down the end of the block where cabbies usually hung around hoping to catch Chevy’s patrons too tipsy to drive home. He spotted a blue hatchback and waved the man down—from what he could see, the man looked nice enough, normal. But looks could be deceiving. He clenched his jaw, trying not to dwell on the idea of Poppy climbing into the car without him, zipping off to some unknown part of the city. Where did she call home? Somewhere in Quincey’s area? She didn’t seem like the type, but hell, she’d defied a lot of his assumptions. He felt her tug at his hand before the fingers of the hand he wasn’t holding wrapped around his forearm. “Tora, look!” she was staring up at the sky practically humming with excitement, “a shooting star.”

He looked up and quickly found the small dot moving above them. _Pfft, shooting star my ass_. “Bobby, that’s a satellite.”

He heard her frustrated exhale from just below his shoulder, “how can you be so sure?” Tora looked down, finding her wide eyes, little specks of light from Chevy’s fancy lights reflecting like sparks of wonder. _Not a witch,_ he thought, pressing his lips together as he swallowed the ball that had crept further up his throat. _She’s a goddamned angel._

He held her gaze, something deep in his chest hoped the moment would stretch on like the great violet expanse above them. _Why did this have to end?_ She looked away first, her eyes searching the sky for the satellite again. “My dad always told me to make a wish,” her voice was nothing more than a whisper. It felt like a hand had grasped the base of his throat. _Told_. If he didn’t lighten the mood, it was too easy to imagine a future just minutes from now that ended with both of them in tears. _Shit_. “Oh yeah?” he asked, trying to clear the scratch in his throat, “what else ya wish on, Bobby?”

He heard her soft laugh and inhaled in relief. “Tons of things: birthday candles, lady bugs,” he felt her finger tapping against the center of his palm as she kept going, “eyelashes, rainbows, fountains, the moon…”

 _Pfft, pfft_ , _damn._ “Well shit, Bobby. That’s a lot of wishin’ for one hamster.”

He felt her fingers tighten briefly where they circled his inner forearm. She giggled lightly, nodding at the sky, “you’re missing your chance.” He followed her gaze and once again found the satellite. _Fuck, if Bobby said it was a star then it was a fuckin’ star_ , he decided. And she’d told him to make a wish. Quincey had introduced him to the concept of wishing recently, having baked (so he claimed) Tora a cake for his 25th birthday. Tora’d been too shocked that day to do the thing when Quince had shoved the lit candle under his nose, though. He’d never thought he’d make it to 25. Tora clenched his jaw, staring up at the little dot miles and miles away—maybe a rock passing by, burning up through the atmosphere or maybe a piece of machinery orbiting them endlessly, tethered to their world by an invisible, unbreakable thread. He had to admit he didn’t really like either idea. He glanced to the left where he could see a sliver of the moon. She’d said she wished on the moon, right? He glanced back at the star, _don’t let this be the last time_. There.

“We should get ya home, sweetheart.” He turned to look down at her, seeing her eyes quickly leave his face, returning to the sky. She’d definitely been watching him, _shit_. He’d been lost in thought, and this woman…she’d eased his guard down, slipping right through. He hadn’t been thinking of his expression. What’d she seen? He moved toward the cab, pulling her along with him gently, nodding to the man behind the wheel who’d tipped his hat to them. The headlights flashed on as Tora opened the back door, climbing part of the way in, one knee tucked up onto the seat. “Oi,” he murmured, and the cabbie turned around, a look of surprise on his face as Tora handed him a crisp hundred. “Get her home safe. Rest is yours.”

Tora climbed backwards out of the car, bracing his hands on the roof of the car before he turned to face Poppy. The headlights cast her in shadow as he towered over her. He could just barely make out the way her lips pulled up half-heartedly, an attempt at a smile for his benefit. _Oh, Bobby_. He exhaled through his nose once, bringing his thumb to her forehead where her eyebrows worried together. “Don’t be a stranger, Bobby.” He pulled his mouth up, his own attempt at a smile for her benefit. He barely caught the movement of her head as she nodded once, attempting to slip past him and climb into the backseat.

Before he knew what he was doing, Tora’s arms were around her, holding her tight against his body. He felt her immediately seize the back of his jacket and worried for a moment that she might be pushing away having found his gun, but then she rubbed her head against his chest, burying her nose against his side and inhaling deeply. Suddenly he was thankful he’d decided to finish his pickups before heading to the gym. Her arms, though unable to reach all the way around him, held him surprisingly tight. He brought a hand to the top of her head and rested his nose against her hair. She smelled so sweet. Tora released her a moment later, having felt his phone buzz in his back pocket. He watched her settle into the cab, briefly touching a thumb to her chin. He thought of the speck of light she’d insisted was a star, _this better not fuckin’ be goodbye_. He stepped away, closing her into the car as she murmured something on the other side of the window. The loose gravel along the curb crunched loudly in the deafening void she’d left behind.

Tora waited, watching as the distance between them widened until he could no longer see her face. Suddenly, the car disappeared into the darkness. He turned abruptly, walking quickly to his car, digging the keys from his jacket pocket. _Fuck, fuck, fuck_. He threw his body down into the driver’s seat, collapsing against the wheel as, for the second time in less than one week, he shook uncontrollably. He could feel the tears well up and over his lower lids and his chest heaved, wracked with full body sobs. “FUCK!” He sat up suddenly and smashed a fist up against the ceiling before pressing his body hard into the seatback, head falling back as he squeezed his eyes shut, jaw clenching and unclenching. He brought his hands to his face, fingers pinched around the bridge of his nose as he tried to inhale deeply through his flared nostrils, but he could only gasp against the tension gripping his lungs. _Get it together, get your fuckin’ shit together_ , he told himself. _Ya have to see Vincent_ , he couldn’t repress the shudder that ran through his arms at the thought of seeing his boss. _Stop bein’ fuckin’ weak_. He reached around to his waistband and quickly removed his gun, meaning to put it under the passenger seat before thinking better of it and re-tucking it under his shirt. Just then, a fist knocked on his window.

Tora swore loudly—it wasn’t easy to sneak up on him, but he’d been distracted, was still distracted. _Fuck!_ He peered through the window, one hand still gripped around his piece, when he recognized the bartender. Tora quickly jammed the key in the ignition, turning the car on and rolling down the window.

“Yeah,” he grunted, one hand quickly pawing at his eyes.

“Sorry, sir, didn’t mean to startle you,” the man said hesitantly before he reached through the window, holding out a tube of something. “Your girlfriend dropped this behind the bar—I missed you on your way out, but I wanted to get it back to you…” he trailed off, glancing around the empty car, seemingly realizing the woman’s absence, “…unless you’d rather I just…toss it…”

Tora quickly reached up and grabbed the ointment from his loose grip. “Nah, I got it.”

“Alright, well…” the man backed away from the car then, the words dying on his lips at the dark look on Tora’s face. He quickly walked back toward the entrance to Chevy’s.

 _Fuck_. Tora tossed the ointment in the space of the center console beneath his radio next to a couple lighters and a half-empty pack. He quickly retrieved a cigarette, stuffing it between his lips, hands shaking slightly as he lit up. Tora leaned his head back against the seat as he held the smoke in his lungs for a couple of seconds before he exhaled through his nose. He swallowed, finally opening his eyes and shifting in the seat so he could fish his phone from his back pocket. He opened his messages, tapping on Quincey’s conversation to read the new message he’d just sent.

@Quince: Heads up, Dad’s pissed. Knows you aren’t with me. Where are you?

 _Fuck_.

@Tora: on my fuckin’ way

*

Tora checked his phone as he removed the key from the ignition, silence settling around him outside of the Balthuman mansion which served, for all intents and purposes, as clan headquarters. He’d chain smoked the entire drive, speeding down backroads in an effort to avoid any potential law enforcement on the streets this late. Tora took a deep breath, one wrong move around Vincent on a good day could get anyone killed. But according to Quincey, he was pissed.

He’d need to stick as close to the truth as possible without bringing Bobby into it. Vincent could never know about her. The man had made a habit over the years of removing anything that might bring Tora even a small semblance of joy. And Poppylan, _fuck_ , Tora realized he didn’t think he’d ever even _known_ happiness before Friday.

Tora took out his phone, opening his messages to the conversation from the number he’d yet to add to his phone. He quickly created a new contact for her, using his nickname for her, there was no way he was giving up that easy. He swallowed, quickly typing out a message to her before he could think better of it.

@Tora: sleep tight, bobby

He stepped out of the car, patting his inner jacket pocket to account for the collections envelopes that’d been pressed against his side all night, and reaching a hand around to adjust the gun in his waistband. He slammed the door, tucking his keys into his jacket pocket. He glanced up at the imposing silhouette of the mansion, shadowed like a black hole in the middle of the woods. A dot of movement above drew his eyes to the sky where, _no shit_ , Poppy’s satellite stole across the night sky, disappearing momentarily behind a thicket of branches before reappearing. He swallowed, wondering if the rules of wishing allowed double-dipping. He’d have to ask her when he saw her again. _Fuck it_ , he closed his eyes, head turned back to the sky.

*

Tora strode toward the door to Vincent’s study after dropping the envelopes in the box Martin kept out—his boss hadn’t been in the conference room as he’d expected. It was unusual and Tora could feel a slight tremor threaten to break out in his hands. He balled them into fists, taking one more steadying breath before he pushed the door open, not bothering to knock. It was a risk, knowing Vincent was in one of his moods, but Tora had to act the way he would have had this been any other night, had he not something to lose for the first time in his life.

Vincent was leaning against his desk, a glass of scotch in his hand which he brought slowly to his mouth as he watched Tora enter the room.

“Door.”

Tora nearly clenched his jaw before catching himself, _shit, remember where the fuck ya are_.

“Sit.” Vincent extended a hand to one of the two large leather chairs facing his desk. Tora’s stomach churned nervously at the thought of being in such a vulnerable position with Vincent standing over him—though Tora was younger, faster, stronger, his adoptive father was still a force to be reckoned with and he often utilized the element of surprise to brutal, critical success. Tora crossed the room and let himself drop into one of the chairs, angling his body to look deceptively relaxed while keeping his feet planted on the floor, legs wide, his knees square with his ankles and core engaged, shoulders ready to react—if he needed to defend himself, he was damn well gonna make sure he had the best odds of surviving whatever Vincent doled out. Tora hadn’t endured a beating in many years, but his recurring nightmares preserved his adolescent memories in vivid detail.

“Tora.” Vincent swirled the liquid around his glass. “Out late, I hear,” he continued lightly, a thread of danger woven under his words. Tora waited, eyes locked on the older man’s cold stare. “I thought I made myself clear. I mean,” he forced a laugh, “you yourself said you understood, right?” His mouth fell into a hard line. “Or do I misremember.”

It wasn’t a question. “No, sir.”

Vincent nodded, humming low as he took another sip from his glass. “So, then you _did_ understand your orders.”

“Yes, sir.” Tora waited, _there was no way he knew about her_. _No fuckin’ way_.

“Where were you?”

Vincent’s tone was light, but Tora knew better than to believe the illusion on the surface. “Southeastern collection run,” Tora bit out.

Vincent clicked his tongue softly, “Good, good…” he trailed off, putting his glass down on the desk beside him. “But you should have finished that a while ago, right?” he looked up at Tora, “Martin says his men saw you arrive at Chevy’s hours ago, and _logically_ ,” he gestured toward Tora as though to imply some sense of reason. Not anger, reason. Level-headed. Willing to work through a minor performance issue with an employee. Tora could have rolled his eyes if not for the circumstances. Vincent wasn’t fooling anyone, but the man loved his theater. “Chevy’s would be your last stop on the way back from the outer edges of the city, at least,” he paused, “that’s how Martin’s men run the route.” He stared at Tora, a cue.

Tora didn’t bite. If this was a beatdown, he wasn’t going to entertain the old man’s antics any more than he had to.

 _Hmmpf_ , Vincent smirked. He’d always enjoyed the challenge Tora posed. “His men say you were still sitting at the bar when they left,” he continued, “which made me wonder, I must admit. I thought to myself, _Tora doesn’t drink_.” He paused for effect, gauging Tora’s mask. “ _Surely_ , I thought, _surely my boy is working diligently on one of the two tasks I assigned him_. So, you can imagine my surprise then,” his eyes darted over Tora’s searching for cracks, “when I called Quinceton and you weren’t with him.”

Tora felt his jaw flex slightly. _Shit_.

Vincent smiled, exhaling deeply, practically shaking. “It bodes the question, _son_ ,” he bit down on the familial word, bastardized in this man’s mouth, “where in the _FUCK_ were you.” His fingers clenched dangerously around the rim of the glass—if he’d been drinking a martini, it would have shattered in his grip.

He knew then, there was no way he was leaving this room unscathed.

*

Tora’s back ached. He’d barely gotten any sleep, not having returned from the mansion until after 3 in the morning. But he was grateful—the night could have gone much worse. Vincent had only managed to land one blow on Tora before the Tiger of Ares Street had sprung from his chair, deflecting each controlled swing of Vincent’s arms. He’d once again aimed for Tora’s old spinal injury, but the rush of adrenaline had numbed any sense of pain in the moment. Just as quickly as Vincent had begun raining blows had he stopped. It was all Tora could do to convince him he’d been at the bar to shoot the shit after a long drive—not exactly entirely implausible. The look in Vincent’s eyes as Tora left the room, though…he knew Vincent would be on him like a hawk until he managed to track down his brother. _Stupid motherfuckin’ Goliath_.

Tora groaned, curling onto his side before using his elbow to push his body into a seated position on the couch in his dingy apartment. He leaned over, grasping blindly at the floor until his fingers scrabbled against his lighter and the pack of cigarettes he’d tossed from his pockets before collapsing onto the couch just a few hours ago. As he lit one, he leaned back against the worn cushions, resting his head against the top of the couch just as he felt a searing pain in his neck. He snapped forward, dropping the cigarette onto his jeans, “shit!” He swiped it off, stubbing it out with his shoe. _Fuck, what was that?_ He ran his fingers gingerly up the left side of his neck, skimming over the place where he knew the crest was, when he felt something sharp against the calloused pads of his fingers. _Goddammit_ , he remembered Vincent’s well-aimed throw as he’d chucked his scotch across the room, shattering against the wall beside Tora’s head. The adrenaline must’ve masked the shards stuck in his neck. Tora stood, staggering a little with the effort as he felt pain shoot down his spine. He needed a fuckin’ smoke. He strode down the hall to his bathroom, flipping the light on and unzipping his jeans to take a piss. As he aimed his cock with his right hand, he flipped the shitty cabinet mirror above the sink open toward him, brushing his hair out of the way so he could see the damage. _Fuck_.

Bits of glass had lodged in his skin, some deeper than others after a restless night on the couch. He quickly shook over the toilet and flushed before deciding as he shucked off his jeans and briefs in one move that it’d be better just to shower. Blood had dried, crusting around the shards and contributing to the darkness of his tattoo. Tora carefully lifted his shirt over his head, groaning at the ache in his shoulders before turning the showerhead as cold as it could go. He strode out of the bathroom back to the couch, bending down to grab another cigarette and quickly lighting it. He normally tried to limit his smoking to one room but, what the hell, this was a special fuckin’ morning. He climbed into the shower, not bothering to close the curtain, peering at himself in the cabinet mirror he’d left open, gingerly working a lather over his neck one-handed, his other hand braced on the wall, keeping the cigarette outside the spray of the water. He looked back up to examine his neck in the mirror, having gritted his teeth through the rinse. _As good as it’s gonna get_ , he thought as he took one last drag of his smoke, flicking it into the sink as he turned his back on the water to finish washing the rest of his body.

*

“God fuckin’ damnit,” Tora muttered as he searched through his first aid kit—not only were his tweezers missing, he was also out of bandages. Upon closer inspection once he’d cleaned off the dried blood, Tora had realized the wounds were pretty superficial. “Son of a motherfuckin’ bitch,” he strode over to the couch where he’d tossed his phone on the floor. He grabbed his keys, toeing on his shoes and glancing around the apartment. He didn’t think he’d need anything else. He’d been planning on spending the day at Quincey’s beta reading in an attempt to butter him up. There was an important favor he needed, after all, best to stay on the man’s good side.

Tora eased himself into his car, leaning much of his weight on the top of the wheel as he sat down with a groan. _Goddamn_ , that injury would be the death of him, that was for fuckin’ sure. He pressed his thumb to the button on his phone just as it buzzed in his hand, a banner scrolling across the top that flashed her nickname. Tora’s breath caught. Chevy’s felt like an eternity ago, hell, he’d forgotten he’d texted her last night, _fuckin’ idiot_ , he shook his head. What if Vincent had demanded his phone? Without a doubt, his boss would be interested in who the Bobby was he was wishing good night. Tora tapped the banner.

@Bobby: Sorry, I passed out as soon as I got home last night

He smiled, picturing his exhausted hamster collapsing on her bed. _Her bed_. He wondered what her bed was like. He had a feeling it’d be unbearably soft. _Wonder how big it is_.

@Tora: glad ya made it safe

After shooting off the text, he’d meant to toss his phone in the center console beside the ointment and lighters—he knew there was only one drugstore this part of the city that would be open this early on a Wednesday, no need for navigation—but as he made to put the phone down, it buzzed again almost immediately.

@Bobby: Surprised you’re up this early. You seem like a night owl.

 _Pfft, pfft, a bird?_ Sometimes she said the weirdest shit. He decided to tease her, with a smirk.

@Tora: waited all night for ya to text me back sweetheart

He imagined her expression, bewildered at thinking she’d been the cause of his sleepless night. With a laugh, he looked back down at the three bubbles that had appeared, disappeared. Reappeared again.

@Bobby: Miss me that much, huh?

Tora felt his eyebrows shoot up, _fuckin’ feisty hamster_. His neck twinged as he laughed again, _shit_ , he had to get this glass out.

@Tora: sure bobby

*

“Will that be all, sir?” the clerk behind the register eyed Tora wearily. He’d pulled the bottom of his hair around his ear to cover the glass still quite visible in his neck, but he probably still looked like shit.

“Where’s ya bathroom,” he asked as he folded a couple bills into his wallet following the cashback transaction. He’d have to remember to restock the supply in his wallet when he got back to his apartment.

The clerk pointed to the back of the store and Tora winced feeling the shards struggle against his skin as he turned his head. He nodded and scooped the mini survival kit from the counter. For some reason, the store was out of stock of normal fuckin’ first aid kits, so Tora had bought the next best thing: an overpriced, pocket-sized plastic case that contained a handful of band-aids, a compressed package of gauze, a small tweezer-scissor combination tool, two individually wrapped isopropyl swabs, and a book of paper matches. He rolled his eyes, _fuckin’ pitiful_. In a pinch, he could light a smoke with one of those damn things, but in a _survival_ situation. _Give me a fuckin’ break_ , Tora thought to himself as he unwrapped the packaging over the restroom sink, tossing the plastic film in the metal wastebasket mounted to the wall. His fingers, despite their larger size, deftly opened the tiny pocket kit, lifting the tweezers from the stupid container. He pulled his hair to the side and leaned over to get a better look in the mirror before he took a deep breath, clenched his jaw, and went to work on picking out all the shards, tossing each one into a paper towel he’d laid in the sink before balling it all up and stuffing it into the trash can.

His stomach growled. _Fuck_ , he usually ate pretty late in the day, but he’d spent most of Tuesday on the road and then he’d just had a couple fuckin’ juices at Chevy’s. _And Bobby drank most of ‘em_ , he thought with a snort. Tora needed to eat. He quickly wiped his neck down with one of the disinfectant wipes before he applied a couple of the bandages over the deeper cuts that were oozing blood. After packing the tweezers back into the little container, he shoved it into his front pocket, stepping from the bathroom out into the store. Might as well grab a pack of smokes while he was here, he figured, moving back toward the front counter. He pointed at the wall behind the clerk and when she turned around to retrieve the pack, Tora noticed the 3-packs of condoms hanging from the wall next to the cigarette display. He thought for a moment and then nodded toward the colorful boxes. “And one of them, too,” he said.

“Sure, which kind?” she looked at him expectantly, his hand frozen in his pocket, fingers partially closed around his wallet.

“…kind?”

The clerk blushed, “yeah…” she eyed him over the register. When Tora didn’t respond she continued, “I mean, there’s the regular ones,” she gestured to a small blue package, “the ribbed—”

“Reg—” Tora stopped short.

The clerk looked at him with wide eyes, unsure if she should go on or if the large man had made up his mind. He inclined his head slightly, and she continued. “Well, there’s the ribbed ones for her pleasure,” she pointed to a yellow package. _Her pleasure?_ Tora felt the tips of his ears heat as he pictured Poppy. _What would bring her pleasure?_ “There’s the extra thin ones,” her hand fell beside a gray box, “and then there’s the, um…” she trailed off, a finger stretched toward the black boxes. Tora stared at her, seemingly unfazed. The clerk coughed slightly, “um, the magnums.” She blushed furiously, avoiding Tora’s eyes, “for larger…” she trailed off again and Tora watched as her hand quickly darted out to scan the pack of cigarettes. She waited. “…sir?”

Tora narrowed his eyes at the display. He’d never paid attention to what the wrapper said before, so long as the fuckin’ thing wasn’t expired, he hadn’t really cared. They were all painfully tight anyway, what difference did it make what color he got? _What would Bobby like?_ He reached a hand across the counter, one bill extended toward her. The clerk continued to watch him warily, as Tora continued to scan the display. The clerk’s words came back to him then, _the magnums…for larger_. Well, he was fuckin’ larger, wasn’t he. Had he been buying the wrong size all these years?

Tora was startled from his thoughts, hand still outstretched as something slammed into the front entrance of the store. _No fuckin’ way_. He fought to keep the smile from cracking across his face as he watched Bobby pull the door open. She rolled her eyes without turning to look back at a woman with purple hair laughing behind her, “so helpful of you, Dene. So glad you came.” _So_ that _was Erdene._

“Pops, you do that damn near _every time_ ,” Erdene wheezed just as Poppy found his eyes, stopping short in the entrance. She was beautiful, he thought, wearing her hair in two braids that hung around the sides of her face, a pale pink sweater, sneakers, and a skirt that showed off the bottom half of her fake strawberry. His mouth twitched and she flushed. Before he could open his mouth to tease her, she reached around, grabbing her friend’s wrist and yanking her down the aisle closest to the door. She hadn’t even smiled. He frowned slightly, following her reflection in the curved security mirror behind the counter, but quickly had to bite back a smirk as he heard her friend whisper-shout as she was dragged to the back of the store, “fuck meeee. Pops, Poppy, did you see that hot piece of _ass_ at the counter. What an utter fuckable stallion of a _man_ ,” she emphasized the last word and Tora almost laughed at how bright Poppy’s blush was in the mirror.

“Sir? Did you decide on a kind?”

Tora glanced back down at the clerk, who was gripping the other end of the bill. He hadn’t let go, though. He checked Poppy out in the mirror again, she was only an aisle away and he watched as she looked him up and down quickly. He smirked, “black,” he said nodding toward the wall display before releasing his grip on the bill and looking back at Poppy’s reflection. Her friend was on the phone and Poppy was examining something in her hands, a slight frown on her face. The clerk handed him a couple bills back and he folded them into his wallet. He grabbed the cigarettes, tearing off the cellophane, and crumpling it into a ball on the counter that quickly expanded back open. He pulled one from the pack, holding it between his lips before shoving the box in his pocket. He glanced back up at Poppy’s reflection before he picked up the glossy black condom box. Untucking the cardboard flap, Tora drew out the three golden packets, shoving them deep into his pocket until they rested beside his smokes. “Ya got a bin?” he stuffed the cellophane into the empty condom packaging and held the box toward the clerk. She took it gingerly from his fingers before he turned to leave the store, digging his lighter out from his jeans.

Tora leaned against the side of the building, letting his head rest on the brick as he waited for Poppy to walk through the door. His back still ached, he could feel each step like a blow to his spine. The door opened and Tora smirked, ready with his line, but it was just her friend with the purple hair. Tora frowned, _the fuck? Where’d she go?_ He took a drag, holding the smoke in his lungs. _Was there a back exit? Had she wanted to avoid him that badly?_ He thought back to their exchange from earlier in the morning. _What changed?_ He watched as Erdene picked up her pace, answering a call on her phone, “yes, I’m on my motherfucking way, Jacob!” _Shit_ , he thought, _Poppy’s friend got a mouth on her_.

Just then the door to the store swung open again and he watched first as Poppy’s right foot then left stepped out onto the street.

He smirked. “Damn, Bobby, took ya long enough.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This wasn’t the place I’d intended to start the chapter, but I really just couldn’t resist writing the scene from our tiger’s perspective whoops ~shrugs~ his voice is just too fun to write from
> 
> Ch. 8: can the tiger keep up with his hamster? And since when did he start thinking of her as *his*?


	8. Kith.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tora gets his answer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is this just the new normal length for a chapter? idk we'll see. I grinned like a stupid fuckin’ idiot writing this, I really hope you like it 🥰🥰
> 
> CW: More wound care, but ~fluffy~
> 
> As always, characters belong to the real MVP Lilydusk, brilliant creator of Midnight Poppy Land. Support her on Patreon! https://www.patreon.com/lilydusk

**Chapter 8**

Tora watched as Poppy whipped around, spinning on her heel and nearly tumbling against his torso before she seemed to catch her balance. _Pfft pfft_ , he smirked to himself, satisfied his line had gotten such a big reaction, as he took another drag of his cigarette, turning his head slightly to aim the stream of smoke away from her, his eyes staying locked on her face as she looked him up and down.

“You waited,” she said, a look of— _what, disbelief?—_ on her face. How did she still not see how infatuated he was with her? He pushed off the building, stretching an arm out to grab the sleeve of her sweater, gently tugging her out of the way as a man came up from behind her reaching for the door to the drugstore. “Course I waited.” The alternative hadn’t even crossed his mind. What more did he have to do to convince her he was fuckin’ interested in her. In seein’ her again and again and again—hell, as much as she’d let him? Though, watching her face light up at his answer…he pushed aside his frustration, mild as it was. “Aged ‘bout twenty years, but glad ya finally made it,” he continued, stifling the urge to split into a shit-eating grin as she rolled her eyes.

She smiled then, smirking up at him with her chin tilted down as though she wasn’t well aware of how he’d react to whatever she was about to hit back at him. And he couldn’t get enough of it, _ya sucker_ , he thought. “So that makes you just about a hundred now, huh?”

 _Well, shit!_ He didn’t even try to stop his brows from reacting as they shot up toward his hairline. _Shots fired, sweetheart_ , “ouch, Bobby.” He attempted a look of contrition as he let himself wonder about their age difference—he knew she was at least 21 but not much else. He brought his hand to the back of his neck, taking care to avoid the fresh bandages hidden beneath the curtain of hair that fell below his half-bun. Thinking of the traditions of ancient Narin that he’d learned in grade school, a thought popped into his head and he grinned down at her, narrowing his eyes, “that make me ya elder then?” He cocked an eyebrow. _Shit,_ he thought, he never wanted to stop talking to her. _So fuckin’ witty,_ his feisty hamster. Was she like this with everyone or just him?

She slowly narrowed her eyes, and he waited a beat to see if she’d respond. “Guess that means ya gotta do whatever I say, right?” he ventured.

He watched her eyes bug and he had to bite his tongue to stop himself from ruining the punch. Tora brought the cigarette to his mouth and inhaled once more before reaching his arm back to stub it out against the brick wall. He folded the butt with his thumb and index finger and tucked it into the pocket with his keys. He blew the smoke out the side of his mouth, one side of his lips still pressed together. _Here went nothing_ ’, at least this time he was ready if she happened to say yes. “Ya give any thought to my offer,” he said. He watched as she blushed deeply, her eyes two round orbs as her mouth parted in a silent _oh_. Her breathing hitched and he watched her shift…her thighs together. _Holy shit, had she just—_ He felt a pull from deep within his core like she was the sun and he was some rock, helpless to her constant draw.

Her eyes flicked back and forth between his own, maybe seeing something reflected in his gaze, “walk with me.” It wasn’t a question, but even if it had been, he would have followed her fuckin’ anywhere, no questions asked. Well, maybe some questions, but he sure as shit still would’ve gone with her.

She turned from him moving a couple steps away to stand at the corner of the intersection and tucking whatever she’d just bought into her skirt pocket. He moved up to stand beside her and let the back of his hand brush hers, hooking the thumb of his other hand in the lip of his back pocket. Glancing down at her out of the corner of his eye, Tora met her gaze—she’d had her eyes on him, mirroring his own body posture, her gaze glued to his face while her head faced forward, and his heart skipped as he swallowed. Studying her neutral expression, he had to wonder if her chest was thumping erratically the way his was— _had she felt his hand?_ A lump formed in his throat as he considered the possibility that she was purposely not reacting. _Maybe she thought it was an accident_ , like he’d brushed against her unintentionally. Before Tora could muster up the courage to move his knuckle again, Poppy slipped one of her fingers hesitantly against his open palm. _Yes, holy shit, yes._ That was all the encouragement he needed. Keeping his face angled toward the street, he watched her mouth twitch as his hand closed around her finger softly. _Fuck,_ he didn’t think he’d ever get used to the feel of her skin on his. _So fuckin’ soft_. He bit the inside of his mouth to keep from smiling when she wiggled the rest of her fingers into his grasp. _Hell_ , what would Quince say if he could see him now? The urge to smile got stronger and Tora bit down harder, he was already hand-holding, for fuck’s sake, and on a public street in downtown where anyone and everyone could see them. He sure as shit wasn’t gonna be caught grinnin’ like a fuckin’ idiot, too. Bobby had other ideas, though, he could see. She’d turned her face up to his, beaming, and he couldn’t help but break into a small smirk at her eagerness. Her clear desire to be with him. To be _seen_ with him, even. Touching him, holding his fuckin’ hand like they were a couple kids on a date. _Fuck, where’d this woman come from?_ And how had he gone his whole life without knowing her? She wasn’t _that_ much younger than him.

The light turned and he took a step into the street, pulling her closer to him as he looked both ways for cars. They were in a pretty central part of the city, just a handful of blocks from the area where the financial district touched the arts district. Where the latter consisted of shorter artists’ lofts and stand-alone buildings like the galleries Quincey sometimes insisted on dragging him to, the former boasted some of the tallest buildings in the city. Even here, still a fair distance away as they crossed the intersection, the morning shadows of the modern, glass skyscrapers loomed over them, casting the buildings around them under watery silhouettes.

“You know, I’ve crossed the street before,” she quipped from below his shoulder.

“Nah, really?” he asked in mock shock. “Thought hamsters just ran around on wheels,” he said taking his free hand out of his pocket and tracing a circle in the air in front of them while he leaned over her slightly.

As they stepped up onto the curb, she pulled on his hand, the length of her arm pressing against his as she directed his attention toward a building down the street with a large theater sign lit up out front. Even before 9 in the morning on a Wednesday, the lights flashed brightly. “You’re a comedic genius,” she deadpanned, “you should ask if they allow thugs at open mic.”

He couldn’t stop the full body laugh that burst from his diaphragm as she led him to the corner, stopping there, aiming their bodies to cross the other street. Several pedestrians who were waiting near them at the corner for the light to change shot panicked looks his way at his outburst, and he noticed Poppy frown as one man abruptly decided he no longer needed to cross the street, backtracking the way he’d come. Normally it’d bother him—the way strangers judged Tora at first sight, even now, holding the hand of a beautiful woman who’d made him laugh more in the last couple days than…well, shit. _Ever_. But he honestly just couldn’t bring himself to give a single, solitary fuck about anyone else in that moment. “Holy shit, Bobby,” he brought his free hand up to swipe a dab of wetness away from the outer corner of his eye. _Holy shit_ , had he just _cried…_ from _laughter?_ That was possible? “Ya should sign yaself up.” He nodded back toward the flashing lights. “Fuck, ya got me,” he sighed, still chuckling. “Fuckin’ feisty, ya know that?”

At his praise, she’d turned her smile up to him again and Tora couldn’t help it: he reached over with his free hand and pinched her cheek. “Goddamn, Bob, ya crack me up. Cute fuckin’ hamster.” He laughed again as she pulled her cheek free from between his curled index finger and thumb.

“Okay, I draw the line at Bob,” she said, rubbing the pink spot on her cheek from where he’d squeezed her. The light turned and they followed several steps behind the people ahead of them who were dressed in suits and fancy blazers, probably headed to wherever they each worked. He might’ve believed she was serious, but she was grinning like a fool, a blush creeping up from the turtleneck of her sweater. If he were a betting man, Tora would’ve put a fair amount of money on the odds that his face mirrored her own. Moments later as they passed the large picture windows of a building kitty-corner to the drugstore, his assumption was confirmed: glancing at their two reflections, he stupidly wondered who the guy was standing beside his Bobby before he recognized his face. He looked…like a different person, if he were being honest with himself. Especially without being able to see the Balthuman crest that wrapped the side of his neck. He watched his smile falter as he imagined— _no._ There was no point thinking about what-ifs, he’d learned that lesson a long time ago. _Fuck if he was gonna forget now just cause_ —he glanced at Bobby’s reflection beside him. _Damn._

“So, where we goin’, sweetheart,” he asked, squeezing her hand a little tighter and threading his fingers between hers. He’d never held someone’s hand before this little woman, had always thought it looked weak when he saw civilians clutching at each other. But he had to admit, it felt nice, though maybe it depended on who the hand belonged to. _Ya goddamned sentimental idiot. Quit it, for fuck’s sake._ “Ya scopin’ out a place to have ya way with me?” She let out a squeak, pulling her fingers slightly from his grip and he stifled a laugh, gesturing ahead of them to a row of hedges along a Starbucks, “those bushes look comfy enou—” he was cut off abruptly as she stopped walking, reaching up to cup both hands over his mouth, her face beet red. _Pfft, pfft, too easy_.

“Tora,” she breathed.

He circled her wrists with his fingers, tugging gently and smiling at her, “teasin’, Bobby.” He had to admit, though, he didn’t think there was anything he liked more than hearing his name on her lips.

She narrowed her eyes at him and motioned toward the Starbucks. “I’m on a coffee run and you’re here to help.”

“Hmm?” _the fuck was she talkin’ about?_ As he’d watch her flustered reaction, he’d lost track of the conversation.

“You asked where we’re going,” she tilted her head toward the shop next to them with— _what was that, a fuckin’ mermaid…in a crown?_ “You’re going to help me get coffee. I’m on the clock, you know,” she crossed her arms and looked at him expectantly.

“What, like carry ya drink?” he scoffed. “Thought ya had an answer for me, isn’t that what all this,” he motioned with two limp fingers swirling the empty space between them, “was about?”

“Drinks, _plural_ ,” she said smiling up at him. They hadn’t moved. “Aaaaand,” she dragged out the word as she tightened her arms across her chest, looking down at her feet, scuffing the toe of her sneaker against the pavement, “I do.” Poppy emphasized each syllable as though she’d just given him an answer to his question… _but, the fuck did ‘I do’ mean_ , he wondered, thinking back to the way he’d originally phrased his offer: _sleep with me_ … _I fuckin’ do?_

“No shit,” Tora turned from her to scan the street around them, “where’s the weddin’, Bobby?” he asked, reaching out to hold her shoulders, standing on his tip toes and shifting his weight from leg to leg as he mimicked searching for something down the street behind her, pretending like he was having a difficult time seeing over her. _Pfft, pfft, as if._ He smirked as she rolled her eyes and shrugged out from his hands, readjusting her sweater. He leaned down until they were eye level, looking up at her through his lashes, “we gettin’ hitched, sweetheart?”

A faint blush stole across her cheeks and Tora smirked. “Kay, Mr. Six-Foot-Three, comedy club’s back that way,” she said seriously, pointing behind him before she turned around to walk toward the entrance of the coffee shop.

Tora laughed as he followed, _she was too fuckin’ funny_.

As they drew closer to the smattering of outdoor tables in front of the shop, Poppy giggled to herself. _The fuck?_ Tora glanced down at her, then followed her gaze to the place where he’d parked hastily across the street from the Starbucks than an hour ago. 

“Enlighten me, Bob,” he said—she shoved his arm half-heartedly with her own, still pressed against him—“t’so funny?” 

She raised her hand to point at his car across the street. _Was she laughin’…at him? The fuck?_ “Someone needs to learn how to park, _pfft, pfft_ ” she giggled, covering her mouth with her hand.

She must not’ve recognized his car from Chevy’s, he thought, and therefore, didn’t know it was _his_ front tire mounted on the curb. That or she knew _exactly_ who she was laughing at. Tora didn’t know which option was worse. “I’m startin’ to think ya get away with bein’ an asshole a lot just cause ya cute ‘n tiny,” he said, cocking an eyebrow and looking down at her, “Miss Judgy.”

She rearranged her expression into one of exaggerated surprise, her eyes wide and mouth open as she gasped, “me? Judgy?”

“Dunno, ya judgin’ right now?”

The neutral expression she’d carefully crafted broke then as the corners of her lips pulled up. She bit her bottom lip and shook her head, “I would never.”

“Sure, Bobby,” he said, quickly stepping around her to open the door to the coffee shop wide. When she glanced at him in surprise at his sudden movement, he shrugged, “that’s twice now I’ve seen ya walk into a door. Don’t want ya to hurt yaself…” he smirked as her eyes narrowed and her little jaw cocked to the side, “…or break their door. Bet it’d be an expensive fix if a hamster walked through it.”

“Tora,” she huffed, rolling her eyes.

 _Pfft, pfft_ , he snorted, “can ya blame me, sweetheart?” She reached down then, pulling his fingers into her palm as she dragged him into line beside her. He could really get fuckin’ used to that—her hand in his. His chest thumped at the thought that _she’d_ reached for _him_ this time. “So, what are we doin’ here?” He looked around the shop—a chain from the looks of it, corporate stickers were pressed against the insides of the windows and large green branding hung from the ceiling. _Creepy fuckin’ mermaid_.

“I told you, I’m on a coffee run,” she explained as they snaked forward closer to the register. The people who had joined the line behind them stayed several paces away, giving Tora as wide a berth as possible. He tried not to care at the way that they peered at him, quickly glancing away as his eyes raked over the room. It’d been easier to ignore the stares, the fear in their looks when he’d been outside with Poppy. But here in this stuffy room, there was no shrugging off the weight of eyes on his shoulders or—worse—the way the men around them kept peering at Poppy like she desperately needed help escaping the thug at her side. Tora tried to keep his expression non-murderous as he made eye contact with one of them, but shit, he’d just wanted to spend time with her without having to remember who he was. _Why was that so much to ask?_

“Where ya runnin’?” he asked as they moved up again. Poppy had been glancing around, and he felt her fingers tighten on his hand.

“Oh Tora, look,” she pointed around the end of the counter toward a corner of the shop where he could see a mic stand and a beat-up guitar leaning against the wall. “Now’s your chance,” she stared at him, as if daring him to walk over there.

He rolled his eyes. “Needs new strings,” he said nodding toward the instrument which, indeed, was missing one of its six strings.

She turned toward him, “you play?”

He raised his eyebrows, “ya got an answer for me yet?”

“Oh,” she pursed her lips, and screwed her eyebrows up until her forehead lined over, as though she were thinking very hard about her answer, “yes.” _Holy—_ Tora’s heart stuttered, and he felt his eyes widen as she gazed up at him, pulling him forward slightly as they turned a corner in the line, only one person left before their turn. _Yes? She’d agreed_ , he gulped. _She wanted to—shit, she wanted him to—_ His free hand reached down to his pocket, patting lightly until he felt the circular outline within one of the foil packets. _Yep, still there_. He heard her, as though through a fog, taking in a deep breath before she continued, “a coffee run is when one person in a group runs out to a coffee shop and brings back drinks for everyone,” she deadpanned, and Tora exhaled slowly. _Fuck_ , he bit back a groan but couldn’t stop his eyes from rolling back in his head as he leaned his head back.

“Shit, sweetheart,” he murmured, “not the question I meant.”

Poppy either didn’t hear him or didn’t care about his fuckin’ blue balls as she explained, “usually, you take everyone’s order before you go, but, now that I think about it,” she tapped her chin with her free hand, “since it’s for a client consultation, I’m just going to get a box of joe for everyone to share.”

 _Joe._ Tora exhaled softly through his nose. _Shit,_ he wondered what Joe would say if he could see him now: standing in line at a fuckin’ Starbucks holding the hand of this feisty… _wonderful woman_. His Bobby. Givin’ him fuckin’ blue balls in public, _sweet fuck_. The thumb of his free hand smoothed over the ring on his middle finger. He should check in on Alice, Tora thought absently. Maybe he could take Bobby, he grinned to himself imagining what it’d be like to introduce them, _the old bat_.

She pulled him up to the register as she ordered, and Tora turned to look out the window. _What the—_

“Fuck!” Tora ripped his hand from Poppy’s, pushing his way back down the line, hopping over the stanchions before leaping around a display of travel mugs as he pushed his way out the door, zigzagging between the outdoor tables—mercifully unoccupied this early in the morning—before he sprinted across the street, only checking for cars once he was halfway across. He waved his arm once, then a second time as a tow truck pulled away from the curb, his car somehow having been hitched to its bed in the short amount of time they’d been in the shop. “GODDAMNED MOTHERFUCK!” he shouted after the truck as it rounded a corner, Tora still sprinting desperately after it, swearing at the top of his lungs, as the vehicle picked up speed. “SON OF A FUCKIN’ BITCHSTICK!” Tora began to lose speed, his back screamed in protest, every step a pound to his spine tearing straight to his skull. “Shit,” he wheezed, doubling over with pain. His vision blurred for a second as little bright specks danced over his shoes—he blinked twice before a hand slipped around his forearm, pulling him upright. He stumbled forward blinking furiously to bring Poppy’s head into focus as she tugged him down the street.

“Tora, come on, we can still catch up!”

“Bobby,” he gasped, “shit, Poppylan, gimme a sec.” There was no way he could catch up to the truck in his condition.

Poppy tugged valiantly, but Tora didn’t budge. She turned to face him, a hand still on his arm which, he realized as the ground swam, he was grateful for, “don’t you work out?”

He snorted, “nah, was born like this,” he quipped back, arranging his face into a smirk so she wouldn’t see him wince. Tora knew he had a higher pain tolerance than most people. The fact that he was doubled over as the pain radiated out from his spine indicated he was in far worse shape than he’d thought when he woke up that morning. _For fuck’s sake_. He’d need to call the clan doctor.

He stood up slowly and something popped, releasing a small amount of tension. _Better_. He took a step forward, his toes tingled in his sneakers, but at least it didn’t feel like a sledgehammer to the back. Tora looked around—he hadn’t realized how far he’d chased the truck before his body gave out, surprised to find they were several blocks from the Starbucks now, technically now in the financial district. He moved his arm so that her hand slipped down to his wrist and then her fingers clutched his as he pulled her forward, “let’s go, I know a shortcut.”

“To where?” she asked.

“To finish ya coffee run,” he looked down and found her face, cheeks flushed from running after him. Her braids, though a bit windswept, framed her perfect face and he watched her chest heave slightly as she caught her breath. He felt a warmth is his chest as he thought back to the moment he’d bolted out of the shop. She’d caught up to him in less than a minute, which meant that she must’ve followed him damn near immediately. Hadn’t hesitated to run after him towards…well, she had no way of knowing. 

“Thought you said _I’d_ be the one chasing _you_ ,” she said suddenly, glancing at him from the corner of her eye.

“Ya _were_ the one chasin’ me, Bobby.”

She huffed, “doesn’t count, you had a head start.”

He laughed, wincing as it sent a sharp pain to the center of his back, “didn’t realize we were racin’, sweetheart.”

“You seemed like the kind of person who’s always prepared,” she said with a shrug. “Guess I misjudged.”

He led them to a staircase between two buildings that he knew led up to a plaza that would put them just a block away from the Starbucks. Giant bushes that dipped over terraces lined the walkway, a sudden and surprising bit of greenery in the midst of the city. “Ya always judge people soon as ya meet ‘em?” he asked as they began to climb. _Shit,_ his feet felt like bricks as he turned half his mind toward tugging himself up the concrete steps.

“Just thugs.”

He snorted, “how many thugs ya know, Bobby?”

“Just the one,” she said, trailing a hand along the rusted, red railing that split the stairs into two paths.

Poppy’s phone buzzed and she took it out of her pocket, “oh fudge,” she muttered. “It’s after 9.”

“What’s at 9?”

She glanced up at him, “I was supposed to bring the coffee back in time for the meeting…” she trailed off. He watched as she tapped her screen again, her brow furrowed. “Oh, wait,” she smiled, “Jacob says it’s been pushed back,” she said. “In that case,” all of a sudden, she spun and plopped down onto the steps, reaching into her other pocket and drawing out… _the fuck was that, candy?_

Tora quickly sat down next to her, grateful for the break. “Bobby…” he reached over and plucked the small plastic package in her lap that said TWIZZLERS in giant white letters. “Don’t tell me this is ya fuckin’ breakfast,” he held it up between them, frowning.

She rolled her eyes, taking it from between his fingers. “I know _you_ probably live off of protein shakes and salads, but not _all_ of us are that unimaginative with our food,” she said, ripping open the corner of the package and drawing out two long red sticks of candy that flopped over in her closed fist. Poppy held one out to him.

“ _Pfft,_ unimaginative, my ass,” he scoffed. She had no way of knowing this, but Tora could pack away enough nigiri for a family of four. He should bring her to Alice’s, he thought again. Tora didn’t want to eat candy at fuckin’ 9 in the morning, hell, he didn’t want to eat candy at any time, day or night. But for Bobby? He rolled his eyes and pulled the shiny, flaccid stick from her hand.

“It’s strawberry,” she said, taking a bite out of hers before smiling.

“This ain’t a strawberry, sweetheart,” he said propping his elbows on his knees and holding the candy up in one fist. _Fuckin’ unnatural_ , he thought, as he nibbled off the tip of the Twizzler with one of his front teeth. His jaw clenched at the artificially sweet flavor. _How in the fuck did she eat this shit?_ “Jesus, Bobby,” he swallowed and glanced over to see her pulling a second one from the wrapper. “Nah, take mine,” he held it out to her.

“You hardly even tried it,” he watched her eyes grow wide. _She really cared that much? Fuck._

He sighed, then bit off the end, making exaggerated chewing sounds before he swallowed, opening his mouth for her to inspect. “There, tried it,” he passed it to Poppy, running his tongue along his molars. Shit, he could feel little bits of goo stuck in the crevices. “Think I’ll stick with the real thing.”

Poppy rolled her eyes, but took the candy from him, sticking the end he’d bitten off between her teeth as she reached into her pocket again and brought out a tube of ointment. She noticed him watching her and she shrugged, “lost mine at Chevy’s,” she said around the candy still hanging from her mouth while she squeezed a bit on her finger and dipped a hand into her sweater to rub it on her shoulder. _Pfft, fuckin’ cutie_. He reached over and pinched her cheek as she frowned at him, then took the ointment from her hands.

“Ya didn’t lose it,” he said, turning it over a couple of times before handing the tube back to her, “have it in my car, bartender found it.”

She stared at him for a second. “Your car, which just got towed.”

He huffed a laugh. “Shit, ya fuckin’ brutal, Bobby. Ya know that? Not even a _thanks, Tora, what would I do without ya_.”

Tora listened to her giggle as she chewed some more of the Twizzler he’d given back to her, wiping the excess ointment on her leg. “So… you always park on the sidewalk?”

He rolled his eyes, “yeah, yeah. Ya still haven’t answered my question.”

She swallowed and he watched as a blush crept up her face. “Would you consider a counteroffer?” _Shit, had her voice shaken?_ Tora kept his eyes on her face, but she wouldn’t meet his eyes. Her fingers twisted over themselves in her lap as she waited for his response.

“Shit, sweetheart.” He ran a hand down his face. “Nah, it’s not…” he trailed off, unsure of his words, “I don’t want it to be, ya know…” Tora brought a hand to the back of his head, “S’not supposed to feel forced.” He sighed, _fuck. How’d he manage to fuck this so royally up the ass?_ “Bobby, I’m gonna introduce ya to Noyouko, no strings.”

She finally looked up to meet his eyes. “What?”

“I was just teasin’ ya, Poppy. Never meant to make ya uncomfortable.” He shifted his hips and grabbed his phone from his back pocket, quickly unlocking it and shooting off a text to Quincey.

When he looked back up at her, Poppy was frowning slightly. _Shit, she not believe him?_ “Here,” he half-turned toward her and brought his pinky up between them, extending it for her. He waited until she brought her hand up to meet his, curling her pinky around his. “On my life, Poppylan.”

Her lips parted open at his tone, maybe the look in his eyes. _Shit,_ he hadn’t meant to scare her. “You’re a good guy, Tora.”

 _Where the fuck had that come from?_ His brow pulled together slightly. He _wasn’t_ a good guy and she sure as fuck wouldn’t have called him one if she really knew him. What he wouldn’t give to have her know him though, to accept him for all the shit in his fucked-up life. _To understand_. Tora turned his head to look back down the stairs the way they’d come when he felt her pinky slip from his and her fingers on his jaw as she pulled his face back to look at her. Her eyes were watery, _fuck, why ya keep fuckin’ this up?_ As he brought a hand up to gently thumb the outer corner of her eye where a tear had gathered, she leaned forward.

Tora’s heart flew up, beating in his throat as one side of Poppy’s nose skimmed the side of his. He held still, watching as her eyes closed and she pressed her lips against his in a chaste kiss. Blood pounded in Tora’s ears, he could hear every heartbeat as her lips moved against him, _holy shit, was this real?_ Poppy opened her eyes, startled to see Tora staring at her, frozen. She pulled back, “oh my god, I’m so—” It took every last bit of restraint Tora had not to lunge at her.

Instead, he grasped the side of her face with his palm, his other arm coming up to wrap around her waist, drawing her closer to his chest as he kissed her. His tongue skimmed her bottom lip, a wordless request that she immediately granted, opening her mouth to him as he slid the hand on her face around her head, fingers tangling between her two braids as he cupped the back of her head. _Holy hell,_ she tasted sweet, a mix of the Twizzlers with something else. As she pressed her torso more fully into his, breathing heavily through her nose, Tora found that he quite liked the taste of the candy when it was on her tongue. _Hell_ , he’d eat as many of the fuckin’ things as she asked if she let him kiss her again. As his tongue found hers, Poppy looped her arm up under his, to fist her hand in his shirt, at the same time moving the hand on his jaw to the side of his neck.

She pulled back, breaking away from his mouth as they both panted. Her eyelids were heavy with desire and he knew without a doubt that his face mirrored hers. He didn’t move his arms from where they clutched her to him as his eyes scanned her face— _what’d made her stop? Was she reconsidering?_ He’d do anything to kiss her again. Poppy blinked quickly a couple times as though surfacing from underwater and then he felt her fingers slide up and down his neck.

 _Fuck. The bandages._ He loosened his grip on her, leaning his head back away from her until her fingers dropped to his chest. “Tora, what…”

“S’nothing, sweetheart,” he said. _Cut myself shavin’_ …the words died in his throat. He couldn’t bring himself to lie to her after what they’d just done. He didn’t want this moment, this memory sullied by the clan more than it already was. He let his arms loosen more, the hand on her head falling to rest at her waist, but Poppy’s fist remained tightly wound in his shirt. Her eyes hadn’t left his and he knew if she pushed again, he wouldn’t be able to deny her. _Shit._

Slowly, she reached up, tucking his hair behind his ear. The gesture was so gentle, strangely intimate. _No, not strange_ , he thought. After all, he’d just had his tongue in her mouth—only a couple other things more intimate than that. Whatever it was, he liked the way her fingers, carefully brushing his hair behind his ear, had warmed his chest. _Don’t go fallin’ for me, Bobby_ , he thought back to the words he’d spoken to her just last night. Shoulda taken his own advice. _Well, fuck me._

She leaned forward, using her hand to encourage his head to the side which he obliged. _Shit,_ he’d do whatever the fuck she wanted. Brushing his hair further back over his shoulder, she gasped softly, running her hand lightly around one of the bandages. “Tora, you’re bleeding.”

He put on a smirk, “well, shit, Bobby. Wonder what got my blood pumpin’.”

She scoffed lightly and he felt her lift the edge of one of the bandages before stopping herself. She tore her eyes back to his, a silent question. He nodded and her gaze returned to his neck, carefully peeling up the bandage. From the corner of his eye, he watched her brow furrow. Remembering back to when he’d first cleaned up the wounds, he knew it wasn’t pretty, knew she probably had questions about what could have caused such an unusual injury. There was no way in fuckin’ hell he’d tell her that, though. Poppy reached back around to the bag at her side as she quickly looked through it. “Shoot.”

“What’s that, sweetheart?”

She glanced at him. “I thought I might still have my hand sanitizer, but it must’ve fallen out at some point. Stupid tiny bag,” she muttered.

 _She wanted to…wipe his neck?_ Was he really bleeding that much? He guessed it made sense—he’d sprinted after a tow truck and then not long after that she’d gotten him more excited than he’d been since…well, last night. “Here,” he lifted his hips, digging around in the pocket with his keys and pulled out the survival kit, opening the top and handing her the other alcohol swab.

As she took the small package from his fingers and opened it, she eyed the little plastic kit that he’d placed in his lap. “A survival kit, huh?” she asked. “So, I guess I was wrong—you _are_ always prepared.”

 _Pfft_. Tora rolled his eyes. “Aren’t ya the writer?”

“—Editor.”

“Sure. So ya should know not to judge a book by its cover, right?”

He waited for her reply as he felt her peel off the bandages, gritting his teeth at the sudden sting of the swab. “Sorry, should’ve warned you,” she whispered.

“S’alright, Bobby. Had worse.” _Shit,_ he hoped she wouldn’t read too much into that. It was too easy to be honest with her, to drop his guard and say whatever popped into his head.

“I can see that,” she said, grimacing. Poppy reached down into her lap and flipped open the top of her ointment, squeezing some onto her pinky finger before spreading it gently across his neck. “You have band-aids in that kit, tiger?”

He smirked, opening the plastic case again and exchanging the used swab for the bandages. He noted it had a fair amount of blood on it before he shoved it into the kit. As Poppy adhered the bandages to his skin, she said, “I think it might leave a scar.”

“What’s that, sweetheart?”

“The cuts, some of them are pretty deep.” _They weren’t_ , he thought. He’d purposely checked and double-checked. And he would know. “I think they might ruin your tattoo.”

He snorted, _wouldn’t that be fuckin’ ironic._ “Let ‘em.” Tora glanced away from her, pretending not to see the look of confusion that passed over her face.

A couple moments later, she ran her fingers through the hair at his shoulder, examining her handywork, “there. All set.”

Tora smirked at her, then brought two of his fingers to tap below the bandages at his throat, “do I get a kiss better?” He watched her blush before she quickly ducked her head toward him, pecking a kiss to one of his bandages. _Well shit_ , he hadn’t expected her to do it. Tora smiled, “all better.”

Poppy tucked the ointment and the Twizzlers back into her skirt pocket then stood, offering her hand out to him and bracing her other on the railing.

“I can fuckin’ walk, Bobby,” he said, pushing himself off the stairs before lightly catching her hand in his.

“Nah, really?” she said, her voice pitched low in an exaggerated imitation of his own words from before. “Thought tigers just ran around on wheels,” she spun her finger in the air.

“ _Pfft, pfft, pfft,_ Bobby,” he wheezed, “nice try, I’ll give ya A for effort.”

As they made their way up the steps, Tora took out his phone and opened up his chain with Quincey, reading the man’s response to his text from earlier.

@Tora: need a favor. i’ll swing by tonight

@Quince: Good, you can help me with this new chapter. The colonists need a meet-cute but I can’t for the life of me get it right. Could use your ~guidance~

Tora rolled his eyes, _fan-fuckin’-tastic_. But if it meant helping Bobby, he’d do it. He shot off a one-thumbed text to Quincey, then another when he read back up the chain.

@Tora: car got towed. pick me up at Starbucks on 3rd. need a ride to the impound lot

@Tora: nothin flashy. take the beater

He paused as Quincey began typing back, three little dots that flashed as he and Poppy reached the top of the stairs.

@Quince: Weird favor but okay. Be there in a jiff.

Tora rolled his eyes, _shit_. He knew Quincey would never let him forget the day the Tiger of Ares Street needed two favors in one day.

When they reached the Starbucks, Poppy quickly ran ahead to the door, looking back to make sure he was watching as she made a show of reading the PULL sign before she gingerly crept the door open, bowing slightly as Tora clapped four times. “I’ll be out here, sweetheart,” he said, reaching over to catch the top of the door as Poppy leaned against the glass. “Gotta make a quick call.”

She smiled up at him and before he knew what had happened, Poppy had reached up to him on her tiptoes and pressed her lips to his briefly, humming slightly, before she quickly turned to run inside.

 _Sweet fuck_. Maybe _that_ was his new favorite thing. First handholding and now this? He couldn’t get enough of her, would keep grasping at whatever she threw his way. He smiled at her through the window before he turned his back and dialed Quincey who picked up halfway through the first ring— _how’d he always fuckin’ do that?_

“I know, I know. Just found the keys, honey, calm down. I’m out the door now,” he said as Tora heard the chirp of the man’s new yellow sports car.

“Quince, not the Ferrari—take the fuckin’ beater,” he growled.

“Hush, don’t worry—I’ll be there in a sec.” At least that much was true—it should really only take a good driver three minutes to get from Quincey’s penthouse to the Starbucks. But Quincey wasn’t a good driver, hell, he wasn’t even a _driver_.

“Goddammit,” Tora muttered under his breath as Quincey ended the call. He walked over to the shrubs along the side of the building, remembering the way Poppy had blushed when he’d suggested a romp right then and there. _Pfft_.

The door to the shop opened slowly, followed by Poppy, moving carefully over the threshold as though the door might change its mind on which way it swung. _Cute fuckin’ hamster_ , he thought as she turned and saw him, quickly running to stand beside him, a brown box with a handle dangling at her side. She took his hand then, shifting the box to her other as Tora made to lift it away from her.

“I know how to carry a box, Tora,” she sighed, pulling him to the edge of the curb, looking up and down the street.

“S’not about th—” all of a sudden Poppy tore across the street, her hand slipping briefly out of his as Tora stood in shock before he caught up to her, tangling his fingers between hers.

“Holy shit, Bobby. Ya a regular criminal,” he laughed.

“It’s just jaywalking, no harm no foul,” she said lightly, swinging the box by her side as she led him to a nondescript office building. “This is me,” she murmured, nodding her head toward the door.

Tora felt his heart sink—he hadn’t wanted this to end. How long had it been? _Not long enough, that’s for fuckin’ sure_. He nodded at her, letting her lead him toward the door, neither one of them ready to let go of the other’s hand quite yet. He opened the door for her, holding the top of it as he leaned over her, other hand still clasped tight in his. Before he could second guess himself, he blurted, “have dinner with me,” hoping it hadn’t sounded as desperate to her as it had to his ears.

He watched as a smile stole across her face before she released his hand, reaching up to pull him down to her with a small hand fisted in the fabric at his neckline. She pressed her lips to him, warm, so fuckin’ warm and soft. Just as he was about to deepen the kiss, she pulled away gently. Reluctantly? “I have to get back to work,” she said. “Sorry about your car.”

He smiled as she backed away over the threshold, her eyes on his face. Could she see how much he wanted her? “Friday?” he asked, and she nodded her head quickly. “I’ll pick ya up.”

She smiled, “I’ll text you my address.” She reached behind her blindly searching for the elevator button. The doors opened moments later and she stepped onto the lift, smiling at him from where he still stood gripping the open door. A second later, the elevator doors had pushed closed and Tora found himself looking at his own reflection in the metal surface where his Bobby had just stood moments before. She was right, he thought, touching a finger to one of his dimples, _fuckin’ obscene_. 

Tora turned, letting the door swing shut behind him, to head back to the Starbucks, knowing Quincey should’ve arrived by then. He pulled out his phone as it buzzed in his pocket and opened up his text chain with the other man. Frowning slightly, he pressed on the download button for an image Quincey had just sent.

His mouth fell open as he stared down at his phone. _That little fuckin’ shit_. Tora whipped his head up searching up and down the street for Quincey’s newest eyesore of a car when his gaze landed on the 10-year old beater Quincey kept to “go incognito.” _Shit, shit, shit_ , he’d been expecting the low purr of the sports car to announce his arrival, but the man had actually heeded Tora’s instructions. His eyes raked across the Starbucks before he found Quincey sitting at one of the outdoor tables, hand wrapped around a takeaway cup wearing a wide shit-eating grin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tryna decide if I should write some of this chapter from Poppy's perspective...hmm 🤔🤔🤔
> 
> Also lul @ Quincey, love him
> 
> Ch. 9: Poppy prepares for Friday


	9. Seeing stars

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Poppy tries to sort her feelings as she looks forward to a date with a tiger on Friday. Her friends aren't helping.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It’s always so much harder getting back into Poppy’s head after writing Tora for a while 😅😅 I was going to rewrite ch. 8 from her perspective but I got bored real quick and it just was bleh so I ended up opting for this instead ~shrugs~
> 
> I think this update pushes this story past 50k words, hot damn! Thank you all for your wonderful comments and for reading 💞 
> 
> As always, characters belong to the real MVP Lilydusk, brilliant creator of Midnight Poppy Land. Support her on Patreon! https://www.patreon.com/lilydusk

**Chapter 9**

Poppy touched a hand to her lips as soon as the elevator closed, staring back at herself in the metal doors. _Had that really just happened?_ Her smile was so wide that it stretched beyond the width of her fingertips and the blush on her cheeks deepened, remembering the feeling of Tora’s lips on hers. _His lips,_ he’d moved so gently against her mouth, almost as if he was afraid of hurting her and yet his arms on her body had been firm, holding her tight to his chest in what had seemed like barely contained hunger. _For…her?_ None of it felt real. She’d been so nervous the first time— _the first time!_ She’d kissed the man _multiple times_. Poppy blinked rapidly and she watched through her fluttering lashes as her reflection blinked back. She was, all at once, overcome with the need to laugh and the urge to pull her head into her sweater, cutting out the rest of the world despite, for all intents and purposes, having already done so by entering the elevator in the first place. She settled for somewhere between the two, dropping into a low squat, the box of coffee hitting the floor with a dull thud, her knees folded up on themselves against her chest as she tugged the cowl neck of her sweater up to cover the lower half of her face, a feeling of disbelief washing over her.

The morning— _it was still morning, right?_ —had passed in a blur. She could still taste the Twizzlers stuck to the hollows of her molars, but she could also taste Tora in the recesses of her mouth—a hint of cigarettes mixed with the sweet candy and, somehow, real strawberries. As she took a deep breath meant to slow her heartrate, she realized her sweater smelled of him, musk and earth and, of course, smoke. She’d never liked the scent of cigarette smoke, but mixed with whatever else it was she smelled on him…she pressed her knees closer together, shifting as she felt her underwear slide against her. _You can make it through the day, Poppylan, jeez,_ she told herself, closing her eyes and inhaling deeply again. She wanted, with all her being, to be wrapped up in his arms again. The feeling of being swallowed whole—she blushed, thinking back to the way he’d humored her despite clearly hating the candy, chewing slowly for her, a smirk just beneath the surface of his expression. The seductive way the skin of his throat had moved first up then down slowly as he swallowed the sugary treat. The slight red tinge to his tongue as he’d bared himself to her on the steps. The greenery lush and spilling from the wall behind him allowing her to forget where they were—for that moment it’d been just the two of them tucked in a special place away from the hustle of the city. The noise of Narin waking up had faded to the background and all she’d known was the press of her nose against his, the weight of his lips heavy and searching against her own.

Poppy looked up as the elevator doors slowly reopened. She’d forgotten to press the button for her floor. _Pfft,_ how was she going to focus for the rest of the day? Truly, she realized with a quiet laugh, she didn’t care. Her mind turned towards the promise of Friday night. _Have dinner with me_. The words had spilled from his mouth, his amber eyes pleading, hopeful. _He wanted to see her again_.

Her eyes came back into focus as she spotted movement through the glass door of the building across the street. Tora, striding quickly to a young, blonde man sitting outside Starbucks— _oh_. Poppy’s mouth fell open watching the man who had held the door open for her, who had leaned down with gentle desire to meet her kiss with a hand on her waist, lunge across the table, wrapping two hands on either side of the other man’s shirt and hauling him easily, despite the other man’s size, out of his seat before dragging him down the street out of her view as the elevator doors closed again.

She frowned. She hadn’t known Tora to be aggressive. In every moment they’d spent together, his actions had been full of easy tenderness. Gripping the coffee from where her fingers had loosened around the handle, Poppy stood back up, jamming a finger against the _door open_ button and exiting the elevator quickly. She ran up to the floor-to ceiling window beside the door and peered across the street just as she spotted him again, this time down the block across from the drugstore as he put a large palm atop the blonde man’s head before pushing him down into the passenger seat of an older looking car. _Quite the downgrade from the tow_ , she noted somewhere in the back of her mind, while she watched him jog around the hood of the car, quickly pulling the door open before he tucked himself in with an ease she hadn’t expected due to the small size of the car and its proximity to the ground. Despite the rough nature of his actions, she couldn’t help but note that he’d shielded the man’s head from the hard edge of the car’s roof. _They must know each other_ , she thought. She was reminded of the way her cousins had treated each other growing up—did Tora have a brother? They looked so different. A second later, she watched as the car peeled away from the curb before making a sharp U-turn in the middle of the intersection, speeding the opposite direction, away from where Poppy stood with her nose pressed against the glass. _Odd…_ maybe she’d ask him on Friday.

She turned then, heading back over to the elevator and stepping inside. She thumbed the button for her floor, one hand still clutching the cowl of her sweater. Though what she’d witnessed confused her, she couldn’t keep the smile from stealing back up her face as she brought her fist to her chin, dragging the thick fabric with it.

The doors slid open slowly and before she knew what was happening, Poppy was being dragged through the door to the Giant Goldfish office and pushed down into the seat at her cubicle.

“Spill.” Erdene leveled her with a bright blue gaze, seemingly intent on staring Poppy straight down through the lower levels of their building.

“Who’s the Greek god?” Jacob piped up from beside her, their faces almost comically squished beside each other as they bent over Poppy. _Two peas in a pod_ , Poppy resisted the urge to roll her eyes, instead slowly lowering her fist and taking a deep breath.

“I need to put this in the conference room,” she said, gesturing toward the box in her hand.

Jacob let out what sounded like something between a squeak and grunt as he wheezed, “the coffee!” He quickly pulled it from Poppy’s grasp and moved away from her cubicle, but much to her dismay he simply put it down on his desk and returned to stand next to Erdene.

“Okay, this is ridiculous,” Poppy started, her now empty hand raising subconsciously to twist the end of one of her braids.

“Bitch, don’t even,” Erdene reached out, holding Poppy’s chin in a fierce grip. “Let me tell you something: we stood _right here_ ,” she pointed at the floor by the window while Jacob waved his arms in an exaggerated motion toward the floor, “and we _watched you,_ ” Erdene pointed a finger at Poppy as Jacob used both hands to gesture toward her, “kiss that _stallion of a man_.” Jacob paused, seemingly unsure of how to mime that part before he decided on a power pose, balling his hands against his hips and jutting his chest out.

Poppy stared back at Erdene, unflinching in her resolve to admit nothing. She blinked and Erdene’s mouth fell open. “Oooookay,” she drew out, eyes narrowing.

“Erdene. Jacob,” Poppy turned to look at each of them before continuing, “it would be highly unprofessional of me to engage in romantic acts at the office, so I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She looked pointedly at them both.

Just as Erdene opened her mouth to respond, Gil cleared his throat from behind them, “and that’s on good judgement,” he said with a thumbs up, clearly uncomfortable. 

“Gil! Hi,” Erdene spun around to face their boss. “I…had a design question,” she glanced at Jacob, “about the mock-up for the next issue.” Her friend quickly swiped up a tablet and digital pen from Poppy’s desk and started walking toward her own workspace, gesturing for Gil to follow as Poppy heard her saying something about gradients.

Poppy looked at Jacob and raised her eyebrows, “Mr. Rose here?”

It looked like he shuddered before biting out a quick “nope,” hurrying back over to his desk across from hers where he started shuffling around his presentation materials before quickly scooping up the box of coffee and disappearing into the conference room. 

Poppy sighed, removing her crossbody bag and hanging it on the back of her chair before she pulled out the half-empty Twizzlers and the ointment from her pocket. She smiled as her gaze lingered on the candy before she turned to boot up her computer. Her stomach growled and she sighed to herself, remembering Tora’s bewildered expression after she had pulled the Twizzlers from her pocket. Had it been disapproval in his voice as he’d frowned, _don’t tell me this is ya fuckin’ breakfast_ …or maybe he’d just been concerned. She had to admit, sugar for breakfast—though not unusual for her—wasn’t a very mature move. And Tora was older than her, she could tell in the way he carried himself and how he hadn’t pushed back against her joke earlier that morning, instead quipping back about elders. _Pfft_ , he wasn’t _that_ old. With her eyes on her email inbox, Poppy slowly reached over to the Twizzlers, drawing one out and holding it between her teeth.

Suddenly, seemingly having realized that she’d brought the candy to her mouth without even thinking about it, she swiveled around and tossed it into the wastebin beneath her desk. She brought her hands to her stomach, feeling the gentle rolls under her sweater before turning to look out the window where Pudge was hopping from one side of the ledge to the other. Poppy frowned at the pigeon’s movements, unusual in how jumpy they seemed to be this morning. _You and me both,_ she thought, pursing her lips and crossing her arms across her chest. Poppy turned her head back momentarily toward her computer to find her inbox still refreshing. She looked back out the window, letting her eyes refocus past the bird onto the shopfront of the Starbucks below. 

Her stomach growled again, and she wished for a second that she’d bought herself one of the steaming croissants she’d seen displayed in the pastry case as she’d waited for her box of joe but shook her head softly as she remembered the women who’d gathered around the window in the corner of the shop. She’d noticed them as soon as she had torn herself away from Tora, bounding into the store, hoping for an expedited wait-time on her order so that she could return to his side as quickly as possible. The man was intoxicating, and Poppy’d found herself feeling his absence like a vacuum in her chest, a tightness she’d never felt even once when she’d been apart from her ex. As it turned out, Poppy had been fine with the distance between Moonbright and Narin City—more than just _bearable_ as she had originally feared—as she’d ventured away from Julri to her new job in the heart of the skyscrapers she had sometimes been able to see from the tops of only the tallest trees on the edges of her hometown. As she thought of Tora, though, Poppy wasn’t sure if she would be able to cope with a distance that significant between them—and she’d only known him for less than a week. Standing in line at Starbucks separated from Tora by a mere wall—with a window, even— she had been grappling with this new tight sensation of a void in her chest when she had heard the poorly-concealed whispers of the women standing in the corner. She had glanced at them from the corner of her eye, noticing as the one dressed in designer-brand leggings and a tight athletic top cropped around her flat stomach had kept turning to look back at Poppy before returning to hushed giggles with her companions. Poppy hadn’t been able to make out much, but the few phrases she’d gleaned had been enough to tell her exactly what they were talking about, what they thought of her, and—perhaps most upsetting—what they thought of Tora. 

“ _Him_ with _her_?” Poppy had felt something akin to a trickle of iced water down her spine as she realized what they must be talking about. Was it that unbelievable—that… _laughable_ , she’d thought with a clench of her jaw—that Tora would be interested in her? That he would not just tolerate her parting kiss, but that he would wait for her to return? Poppy felt sick.

A young woman with smile lines around the corners of her eyes had beamed at Poppy as she’d approached the register when it was her turn to order. “Welcome to Starbucks, what can I get started for you?”

Poppy blinked at her, forcing a smile, her intended expression at war with the way her brows had pulled up and together. “Hi,” she’d glanced down at the woman’s nametag, “Madeline, I need to get one of the big boxes of coffee, you know, for like big meetings and stuff?”

Madeline nodded, quickly tapping the screen in front of her, “sure thing, one traveler comin’ up. You have a roast preference?” she asked, glancing up. Her finger hovered above the screen as she watched Poppy look back at the women in the corner, her face pinched. “How about the medium, it’s our most popular” she offered quickly, trying to draw Poppy’s attention back away from the women’s laughter. Poppy nodded quickly, inserting the chip of the company card Erdene had given her, lost in thought and self-doubt. Madeline glanced over at her coworker who turned to head to the back before he returned shortly later with a box. Madeline turned around, grabbing the box from him with a quick thanks and pushed it gently across the counter to Poppy, stuffing a stack of cardboard cups and napkins into the side pockets that she expertly folded out.

“Thanks,” Poppy murmured. Just as she’d been about to turn to exit, Madeline reached across the counter and touched her forearm.

“Hey,” she said, catching Poppy’s eye, “your boyfriend’s cute. You two look really good together.” After a brief pause, glancing at the women across the shop before looking Poppy up and down, she added, “Not gonna lie, I’m a little jealous of him,” she smiled, and Poppy had blushed, unable to stop herself from feeling warmed by hearing yet another stranger assume that Tora was her boyfriend. Was _hers_. Pushing the door open carefully, not wanting to embarrass herself in front of the group who were still ogling Tora through the window, she’d been unable to stay upset as his eyes found hers and his dimples shone down at her. Still, she’d quickly grabbed her hand and tugged them across the street, wanting to put as much distance between them and the women.

Poppy shifted her arms to squeeze around her middle as her stomach growled again. Jacob had mentioned he was starting something called keto a couple weeks ago. She should ask him how it was going, maybe she could try it, too.

“Pops,” Erdene called over the cubicle wall, “I can hear your stomach from here.” Poppy waited, turning back to face her desk as she heard Erdene’s wheels approach against the crushed carpet of the office. Moments later, her friend rolled up backwards in her office chair, feet shoving out against the ground as she carefully maneuvered to pull up beside Poppy’s own chair, a tablet balanced carefully in her lap open to her latest cover mock-up with a sticky note from Gil on the side. Poppy glanced over at the design and pointed, “you think that corner’s too dark? It’s a little tough to make out the text.” Erdene snapped her head up to glare at Jacob, who had returned to his desk as Poppy had been staring out the window.

“Thank you,” she said to Poppy, keeping her eyes on Jacob, “for your helpful feedback, Poppylan.” Poppy glanced up warily at her, thinking of the way they’d left their last conversation—or, more aptly, their last confrontation. Erdene turned to look back at her best friend. “Bitch, don’t think for even a second you’re off the hook. This is just a pity visit—you’re making me hungry and it’s not even ten,” she leveled a stare at Poppy before the corner of her mouth quirked up. “Sushi?”

Poppy couldn’t help but grin—Erdene knew she was always in the mood for sushi. “Only if you buy, then _maybe_ I’ll accept your offering as apology,” she repressed a smirk as Erdene narrowed her eyes.

She pointed a manicured finger at Poppy, “first of all: not an apology. And second: I saw what I saw, and I said what I said,” she cocked her jaw before turning back to the tablet. “Use my Doordash,” she said nodding toward her phone which, for some reason, was on Poppy’s desk.

“Someone say sushi?” Jacob inclined his head toward them.

“Yah,” Erdene called, “you want your usual? I’m buying.” Poppy glanced up at Jacob as she pulled Erdene’s phone across the desk toward her. He nodded vigorously. _Pfft, pfft_.

Poppy swiped until the facial recognition failed, typing in Erdene’s passcode. There was what looked like a collection of blurry lines on an image that Erdene had left up on her phone. Thinking it might be a very zoomed-in, early mock-up of next month’s issue, Poppy touched her fingers to the screen in a V and swiped them together. She blushed furiously as she quickly realized what she was looking at: an image of a naked woman kneeling on a couch. Her hands braced against the back of the cushions, bare bottom pressed against the face of a man kneeling on the floor beside the couch, one of his hands gripped her hip while the other was drawn up close to his mouth, disappearing in the dark space where his body met hers. Poppy could feel heat spread rapidly from the top of her head all the way down her arms as she quickly exited out of the image—whatever Erdene had been looking at, Poppy was sure she wasn’t supposed to have seen it. She blinked rapidly in confusion down at an open text conversation with a contact named _Damien Bumble_ , quickly realizing the image had been a link he’d sent her friend. She closed out of the message quickly, her mouth running dry as she frantically searched for the Doordash icon, the man’s last text seared into her memory: _yes, ma’am_. Poppy felt a cool hand on her own before she realized Erdene was grinning at her, having seen the whole thing.

She leaned close to Poppy’s ear and whispered, “wonder if the stallion’ll let you ride his face.” Poppy stood up abruptly, the phone clattering beneath the desk as Erdene snickered. She reached an arm around, grabbing her bag from off of her chair and scrambled around Erdene’s knees. “Pops, come on,” she called half-heartedly after her friend, still laughing, “not in the mood for sushi anymore? We could order something else,” her voice growing louder as Poppy pulled the door of the office open, “it’s good to try new things!”

Poppy panted as she whipped herself down the small stairwell of the office building. She didn’t stop until she’d reached the ground floor. Gripping the handle of the door to the lobby, she paused, catching her breath. That photo. It’d been too easy to imagine her own body pressed back against Tora since neither of the subject’s faces had been visible. The man had even had dark hair, for crying out loud, though he’d been nowhere near as built as Tora, and he hadn’t had any tattoos on his arms either. _Would Tora_ — _no_. She stopped herself from finishing that thought. They hardly knew each other, even kissing was still so new for them never mind the fact that she had no experience in the bedroom, whereas she could only imagine how many opportunities Tora had been presented with to practice his skills. Poppy sighed, feeling the burn beneath her skin cool. She should really go back upstairs, but she wasn’t sure if she could face Erdene. The woman was not going to let up—her teasing was almost as bad as Tora’s, though at least with _his_ , she enjoyed it.

Poppy reached into her bag, pulling out her phone with some effort. She’d need to text Gil some excuse—sudden food poisoning? She spent a moment crafting what she hoped sounded like a plausible excuse for leaving work just a couple hours into the day with a big client on the way, and sent it off. _There_. She checked the time—if she hurried, she could still catch the bus.

*

The buzzing of her phone woke Poppy from a deep sleep. She had stretched out on her couch, having decided to relax to some indie pop. Q.B. Noyouko’s _The Secret Garden_ lay pitched across her stomach, and Poppy quickly pulled the book off her to examine the pages for creases. “Ah, darn,” she unfolded one that had collapsed in on itself diagonally. She stretched for a moment, reaching her arms as high over her head as she could, suddenly blushing as she remembered who she had dreamed about. She glanced down to the floor beside the couch just to make sure she had in fact been dreaming, that Tora was not crouched and ready for her, hands reaching for her hips to back her against his tongue. Poppy put a hand to her chest, feeling the heavy thud of her heart. She needed a cold shower or something. _Tch_ , she looked down at the book in her hand, _definitely his fault_. All of Noyouko’s male leads shared qualities similar to Tora, she’d realized—brooding and hunky, mysterious men with a tender side they only showed to the other lead. Her hand dipped momentarily to her pajama bottoms before she stopped herself short. If Tora kept his word and she were to actually meet Noyouko, she didn’t want the chance to be distracted by the knowledge that she’d touched herself to his words while thinking of Tora, his friend? Acquaintance? She had no idea what they were to each other, still finding it odd that Tora actually knew the man. There was a small part of her that nagged, _of course he doesn’t actually know him, he’s just trying to sleep with you and bounce—get in, get out_. But she couldn’t bring herself to listen. He’d promised and she chose to trust him.

She remembered the solemn look that crossed his face as he’d grasped her pinky, _on my life, Poppylan_. She shivered. His nicknames for her were playful, and he hardly ever called her Poppy. But when he said her full name…Poppy took a deep breath. It was like he was seeing _into_ her. _How did he do that?_ The man was an enigma—she hoped to learn more about him Friday night. She kept thinking back to the moment he’d allowed her to wash his wounds—a patch of cuts, some deeper than others, across the dark swirl of ink on his neck. She’d almost made a joke about shaving, but had stopped herself short— _clearly_ the cuts were not razor burn. She wondered what had happened, who had hurt him. And his response when she’d worried that his tattoo might be scarred over—his single laugh had been sharp, joyless. Like he might relish the idea? _No, that’s ridiculous_ , she thought. Tattoos were expensive but beyond that, if he didn’t like it, he could get it removed, she’d read all about laser removal over brunch with Erdene the morning she’d gotten hers, _just in case_. But it was like Tora had taken pleasure in knowing his might be _ruined_. Marred.

Poppy’s phone buzzed again, and she reached down to the floor to pick it up—she had two messages, one from Tora and one from an unknown number. She smiled, opening Tora’s.

@Tora: sweet dreams bob

_Pfft, Bob._ She found she didn’t really mind her shortest nickname. _If only you knew what I’d dreamed…_ she remembered dream-Tora’s eyes as she’d looked back at him, the hunger almost feral as he’d slowly peeled her underwear down her hips.

@Poppylan: Night, Tor.

She shrugged, not her best. He might just assume it was a typo, but either way she hoped it made him laugh.

Poppy exited out of his message and tapped on the unknown number, frowning slightly as she wondered who it might be. When she read the message, her stomach turned over.

@Unknown: Baby, it’s me. can we talk?

*

Poppy took another sip of the wine Erdene had handed her just moments before when she’d stepped through the woman’s front door. She stared through the pale liquid to where her fingers were pressed against the bulb of the glass. The drink was dry on her tongue and she found herself yearning for something sweeter, thinking briefly of the way the strawberry juice at Chevy’s had warmed her…though, now thinking about it, maybe that had been more because of Tora and less because of the juice. She sighed as Erdene bustled about in her bedroom down the hall before her friend emerged triumphant with a large pile of pillows and blankets in her arms.

“Think I got ‘em all. Here,” she gestured for Poppy to lift her arms so that she could lay a thick, fluffy blanket over her legs.

“Dene, what if I spill?” Poppy glanced at the glass in her hand held carefully over the plush fabric.

“Well, good thing you’re drinking white,” Erdene said, flopping down on the couch beside Poppy and wrapping her legs up in her own matching cover. “So.” She reached over to grab a gin and tonic off the coffee table, taking a slow sip while she peered over the rim of her glass at her friend, whose eyes were rimmed in pink and had been glassy all day.

Poppy glanced over at her friend. She’d held off as long as she could in coming to see her, still not sure how to talk to her about Tora and knowing that if she saw her, the persistent woman would only continue to poke her about it. Poppy had avoided her at work all Thursday, coming into the office early and ducking out just before four so she could avoid the walk to the bus stop that happened to be along the way to Erdene’s apartment. But the texts from Julri weighed on her more and more as they continued to ping from the phone she’d taken to burying under whatever pile of loose papers happened to be nearby. What made it worse was how spaced out the messages were—he would text her two or three times in rapid succession before leaving her alone for a handful of hours just long enough for Poppy to put him from her mind and focus on work before he would text again. Poppy had debated simply putting her phone on silent, but the thought that she might miss a text from Tora stopped her from doing so. Instead, every time the device buzzed, she felt a swell of hope mixed with a sinking feeling of dread—an incredibly confusing and emotionally exhausting combination. Save for the two texts Tora had sent her wishing her goodnight on Wednesday and then good morning on Thursday, and a couple very short replies to her attempts to get him to tell her where he was taking her to dinner, her hopes had been dashed every time she’d heard the buzz.

“Julri’s been texting me,” she murmured.

Clearly, that hadn’t been what Erdene had expected her to say, as her lips parted and her eyebrows shot up. “The fuck does _he_ want?” she said.

“To talk,” Poppy said quietly into her wine before taking a gulp. “He says he wants to try again.”

“And?”

“And what?” she turned to look at Erdene, a plea in her eyes.

“You blocked him, right?”

Poppy shook her head. As much as she hated Julri right now, she hadn’t been able to block the man who had been such a big part of her life for so long. They’d only _just_ broken up last week, she had to keep reminding herself. _That’s right_ , she thought, _tomorrow will be one week_. One week since ending things with Julri and one week since—she smiled softly to herself.

“Okay, see, what was that?” Erdene pointed to Poppy’s face.

“What was—”

“No, bitch. I have been ungodly patient, but it’s killing me: who’s the guy?” She took a sip quickly before adding, almost as an afterthought, “and I don’t mean dickwad.” She rolled her eyes, muttering, “never _once_ saw you smile like that about him.”

Poppy sighed. “It’s really new, Dene. And I don’t know what it is.” It was a half-truth. Poppy had spent a lot of time thinking about this since she’d said goodbye to Tora on Wednesday: if she spoke into the universe, if she put words to how she felt about him, she was certain she would jinx it. That Tora would grow bored of the chase, or worse, that he’d never been interested to begin with. “And now Julri is—”

“—out of the picture,” Erdene completed her sentence, staring seriously at her friend. “I know I’ve got a sex drive that…” she paused, “is higher than average. And I know what I said about your mystery man maybe came off a little strong,” she said. “But Jesus, Pops, the way that guy looks at you,” she sighed before continuing, reaching out to wipe the corner of her friend’s eye, “I just want you to be happy, Poppy. And you were _beaming_. Even fucking _Jacob_ could see it from across the street and you know he can’t see for shit.”

Poppy laughed softly. Hearing her friend’s words…she had to admit, they helped. Taking another sip of wine and propelled by a combination of Erdene’s assessment and the alcohol, Poppy said, “he asked me to dinner.” Poppy couldn’t stop the grin that split her face as Erdene stared at her open-mouthed.

“Pops, since when?”

She smiled sheepishly, “yesterday?” If she had thought Erdene’s eyes were wide before, the expression her friend wore now was unreal. _Pfft, pfft._

“Wait, wait, wait.” Erdene put her drink down on the coffee table and held up her hands in a T motion. “I need details, how’d this happen?” Poppy took a slow sip, thinking. She still didn’t know what she had with Tora, but she also didn’t want to hide him anymore, at least not from Erdene. The woman had been nothing but supportive in every other aspect of her life. _She just wants you to be happy_.

Poppy smiled, “remember when we ran out of wine?”

“Which time?” Erdene shook her head.

“Friday, Dene. I ran to the liquor store?”

“Oh yeah, the fancy one,” Erdene nodded in recognition, reaching back over for her glass.

“He, um, he was there, and I couldn’t reach the boxes—they keep them on the top shelf, and you know,” she gestured at herself as Erdene nodded. “So, he helped me, and Dene! He grabbed a pen and wrote his number on the box—directly on the box,” she said, eyes shining up at her friend who wore a stupid grin. “We ran into each other on Tuesday when you couldn’t make it to Chevy’s, and then again at the drugstore.” She paused, zoning out as she rubbed the blanket between her fingers. “I don’t know, Dene, I’ve never…” she swallowed.

“Shit, girl, you’ve got fucking stars in your eyes,” she laughed. “You’ve got it baaaaaad for this hunk.”

Poppy blushed, smiling. She finished the wine in her glass and looked back up at Erdene, “ _pfft, pfft,_ maybe.”

“So, do I get to know his name yet?” Erdene wiggled her eyebrows, putting a fist under her chin as she looked expectantly at Poppy.

Poppy considered it for a moment. She already felt lighter, her friend’s support helping to push Julri from her mind. _The way that guy looks at you_ , Erdene’s words circled the front of her mind. “Not yet,” Poppy said, coming back to herself. “It feels special, Dene, and I don’t have a lot of experience, you know? I want to do this my way. What feels right.”

Erdene beamed at her. “You better tell me when you finally fuck him, though.”

*

Poppy stood in front of the mirror in her bedroom. She swallowed as she looked herself over—she’d opted for a set of matching underwear, one of the only such sets she owned. They were made of plain black cotton—nothing fancy by any means, but it was the best she had while trying to seem more mature. She doubted Tora would find her sexy in any of her well-loved unmatching pairs printed with a variety of plants and animals, patterns that had once been bright but had faded with each wash as she conserved money, opting to buy work clothes rather than to refresh the pieces of her wardrobe no one but herself would ever see. But now…she watched a blush dapple her chest as she imagined Tora seeing her like this, his broad body approaching her reflection from behind. Her heart quickened before she quickly shook her head, reaching for her brush so she could braid her hair. She was getting ahead of herself, and besides, she wasn’t even sure how far she was ready to take things tonight. It’s not like she owned any condoms, and would Tora even want her if he knew she was a virgin? The underwear made her feel more confident though, thinking back to something Erdene had said about the importance of dressing for herself before any man. Still…she let her mind imagine the edges of what could be possible. Tora had texted her that morning to get her address, checking to see if seven o’clock worked for her and she’d pounced on her phone, nearly spilling coffee all over her keyboard in her haste to text him back.

Erdene had lent her a dress the other night—a flowy black garment that lay wrapped in plastic on Poppy’s bed. She stared down at it biting her lip. When she’d tried it on at her friend’s apartment, the neckline had been quite severe, plunging between her breasts in a way that had her hands flying up toward her chest to cover herself as Erdene laughed at her reaction in the mirror. On her flat-chested friend, the dress was pretty tame. Sure, she might get a couple second glances if she were to wear it out in the daylight, mostly because of her tattoo. On Poppy, the dress was…well, Erdene had called her sexy, but Poppy had thought it was immodest to the point of being absurd. Her cleavage was on full display and the fabric of the dress clung to the swell of her hips. As she’d entered the fancy liquor store to pick up her gift for Tora with the garment bag draped over her shoulder, she’d blushed as the clerk made eye contact, for a moment having forgotten she’d changed back to her street clothes.

Poppy thought for a moment, standing above the bed, quietly braiding her hair. Maybe she should check with Tora. He’d been tight-lipped about where they were going whenever she texted him leading questions—it was worth a try. She picked up her phone, sitting down on the bed beside the dress and typed out a message to him, smiling as three dots appeared immediately.

@Poppylan: Dress code?

@Tora: whatever ya want sweetheart

Poppy frowned at his response, huffing. Not very helpful. Maybe she could try to get an answer indirectly. She thumbed another question.

@Poppylan: What are you wearing?

@Tora: well shit sweetheart, this date startin early?

She inhaled sharply as she read his message, the blush on her chest creeping up her neck as she watched the three dots appear again.

@Tora: i’ll show ya mine if ya show me yours

She could picture his smirk, could he hear his laugh, imagine as his shoulders would shake if he could see her reaction. She stopped herself from replying something snarky, even though she wanted nothing more than to hear him call her feisty.

Poppy removed the dress from the bag, hanging it over the side of her mirror as she stepped back to snap a picture of it. She attached it to a message that read “Be honest” and sent it off, sitting back down on the bed to wait for his reply. She watched as the dots appeared, then disappeared. Reappeared again. A moment passed, long enough for her phone screen to lock. Poppy frowned, _what was taking him so long?_ Her room was a bit dim, maybe he couldn’t see the dress—it _was_ black, after all. Maybe he hated it.

Her phone buzzed and she looked down.

@Tora: left one’s perfect

She frowned. _The left?_ She looked over at the mirror where the dress hung off the right corner. She’d made sure to tidy her apartment on the off chance that Tora might want to come up after dinner. There weren’t any other clothes around. _What’s he talking about?_ She pressed the text box at the bottom of the app to ask him, rolling her eyes slightly having a feeling that she was walking into a trap, that this had been his intention all along. It was harder to read him over text. The dots reappeared.

@Tora: but that’s for later 

Poppy froze, her breath caught in her throat as she felt her fingers tingle, her nipples tighten against the cotton bra. What did _that_ mean? Did he like it? _Shoot,_ he wasn’t making this easy. She considered asking Erdene what she thought his first text could mean but thought better of it. It was so close to seven. She decided to try again.

@Poppylan: I showed you mine…

She waited as a minute passed by. Checking the time, she figured she should at least get out an alternative to the black dress in case he’d chosen something more informal. She glanced at her phone as she pulled open her closet, maybe he was already driving. She realized she didn’t know where he lived.

“Hmm,” she rifled through her clothes again. There was that yellow dress she’d only worn once before, the color made her smile. She pulled it out of the closet, laying it on the bed. Then again…she looked at the original outfit she had considered: a white lace crop top with a sweetheart neckline and a pair of yellow pants that covered her belly. Her phone buzzed again and Poppy tapped the screen to read the message.

@Tora: how bout we pick this up in person sweetheart. i’m out front.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’ve started posting some one-shots to accompany this fic - the second one follows Jacob & Erdene right before the start of this chapter if you’re curious what they were up to teehee
> 
> Ch. 10 (already?!): Tora’s got some shit to take care of before he can pick up his hamster


	10. Anticipation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Quincey wants answers. Tora prepares for a date with his very special someone...who sends him a very special something.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So happy to be back in Tora’s head 😆 I love your comments, they make me smile so much—thank you for reading 😻😻
> 
> As always, characters belong to the real MVP Lilydusk, brilliant creator of Midnight Poppy Land. Support her on Patreon! https://www.patreon.com/lilydusk

**Chapter 10**

_Oh, that motherfucker was dead_. Tora nearly threw his phone away in anger before thinking better of it as he strode across the street, his eyes glued to his brother’s stupid fuckin’ face. He didn’t want to have to call Ronzo for a new fuckin’ phone. He was gonna use the fuckin’ pavement to wipe that shit-eating grin off Quincey’s face.

As Tora hopped up onto the curb, Quincey’s smile fell a fraction of an inch as he gripped the cup in his hand, looking like he may be starting to regret sending the picture in the first place. As soon as he was close enough, Tora lunged across the table, kicking two of the chairs aside with one move, his foot planting beside his brother before he reached down and hauled him up by his shirt. _This little shit_ , Tora breathed heavily through his nose, his nostrils flaring as he lifted Quincey a few inches until they were eye level. “Ya fuckin’ dead.”

“Um—”

Tora manhandled Quincey until he had an arm wrapped around his brother’s neck, dragging him down the street toward the beater in a chokehold. “Dead, Quince, d’ya fuckin’ hear me?”

An orange hand flashed on the pedestrian light across the intersection from Tora, but he strode out into the street without breaking pace as Quincey choked out, “Tora! Tora, what the hell are you doing,” his fingers scrabbling at Tora’s bicep and forearm as he was dragged ass-backwards toward the car. Tora heard him cough something about uncalculated risks before he tightened his arm up toward the underside of his brother’s jaw.

“Keys,” Tora bit out. Quincey shook his head. “Quince, I’m ‘bout throw ya in the fuckin’ trunk. Keys.”

With his head thrown back against his brother’s armpit, Quincey flapped his hands toward his left front pocket. Tora dug his hand into the man’s pants until he grasped… _the fuckin’ Ferrari?_ “Quince, keys,” Tora roared.

Quincey nodded, finally gasping out, “deeper, they’re deeper.”

Tora growled in frustration, sticking his hand back down his brother’s pocket until he found the keys. The day had started off like shit before Poppy had turned up like a break in the clouds, and just as Tora had begun to believe that the rest of the day might be sunny, Quince had blown in like a fuckin’ monsoon. Tora quickly unlocked the door—he was sure the other pedestrians on the street who had taken to openly staring at them would think he was abducting the other man, but he truly could not summon a single fuck to give about whatever they thought was happening. As a man passed by them quickly, Quincey smiled at him, waving slightly with one of his hands, as though to assure him that it was perfectly normal to be held in a chokehold.

Tora ripped the passenger door open and spun Quincey around, palming the man’s large head before shoving him down into the seat. He slammed the door and jogged around to the driver’s side, whipping the door open. “Little fuckin’ cunt,” he muttered as he jammed the key in the ignition and slammed on the gas, cutting a U-turn abruptly through the intersection as Quincey let out a scream.

“Tora, my god, what the fuck! You’re going to get us killed!”

Tora was seeing red, _shit, this was not good_ , he needed to calm the fuck down. He reached blindly to the place where he would normally have a pack of cigarettes stashed in the center console, forgetting this wasn’t his car. His car had been fuckin’ towed. “GODDAMMIT, QUINCETON,” he hit the steering wheel with the heel of his palm, taking a deep breathe through his nose before harshly exhaling between his teeth.

He glanced over at Quincey who stared back at him, unmoving, eyebrows raised. “You good, tiger?”

_Tch_ , Tora rolled his eyes. Fuckin’ Quincess. He wished he could go back to five minutes ago. Fuck, he’d been so happy. _She’d_ been so happy, at least, she looked like she was happy. And dinner, he’d asked Poppy to dinner on Friday and she’d fuckin’ beamed at him. Tora took another deep breath, taking a left at the next intersection, and thinking back to the drugstore. What he wouldn’t give to go back in time, _walk with me_. He leaned his head against the seatback as they came to a stop at a red light, rubbing a hand up over his face. _Oh, shit,_ he quickly lifted his hips, thrusting his hand into his pocket so he could grab the contents, suddenly having remembered he’d bought a fresh pack that morning, _thank fuck_. He brought his hand out of his pocket, opening his fingers to grab the smokes with his other hand when a golden foil packet tumbled from between his palm and the carton. He closed his eyes, hearing Quincey’s breath hitch as the condom landed on Tora’s thigh, sliding to a stop at his groin. _Fuck, could this day tank any harder?_ He needed some fuckin’ air.

Tora jerked his hand on the wheel to pull over, not slowing until he felt the front tire hit the curb, moments later throwing open his door. He quickly picked up the condom, shoving it back in his pocket before wrapping a hand around the smokes and slamming the door behind him. He strode over to a bus bench where he could still see the car but thankfully not the Quincess in the front, slumping down onto the wooden seat and fishing around in his pocket for a lighter. _Shit_. He’d left them in his car. He tilted his head back and let out a frustrated laugh through his nose. _Wonder what Bobby’d say if she saw ya now, ya stupid fuck_.

He stuck a hand back into his pocket, taking out the survival kit and pulling out the paper matches. He bent one back and scraped it against the book. Nothing. _Of fuckin’ course, stupid fuckin’ paper matches, why they still even make this shit_ , he thought, bending another match back and swiping it across the strike pad. Nothing. Tora bit his lip and leaned forward, bracing his elbows against his knees. He took out a cigarette and put it in his mouth, a small comfort—the familiar feel of the paper against his lips, the faint scent of the tobacco. What a fuckin’ day. He’d spent the earliest hours of the morning getting a beatdown from Vince that’d left him with glass in his throat and now this: someone in the clan knew about him and Bobby. He swallowed, drawing his hands up to his half-bun and linking his fingers behind his head. Not just anyone—fuckin’ Quincey Balthuman, second in line to the most evil fucker Tora knew. _Fuck_. What had he been thinking, getting tangled up with a civilian? Such a sweet, innocent fuckin’ hamster of a woman, no less.

He heard a car door slam and, moments later, Quincey’s designer sneakers appeared on the cement next to him at the edge of his vision from his hunched position on the bench. Quincey sat and, a couple moments later, Tora felt a hand on his back.

“Who else knows,” he said, not raising his head from his hands. He watched Quincey’s foot bob where it was crossed against his other one. “Just Gyu.”

_Goddammit_. Tora sighed. He was gonna break that fucker’s leg, he must’ve told Quince about Chevy’s. _No, that didn’t make sense_ , it’d been coincidental that his brother had stumbled across them as Bobby had pressed her lips to his. _So fuckin’ warm_. He missed her already, like a goddamn knife to the ribs. Was this how people felt when they dated? It was fuckin’ awful—the best and the worst, two sides of one coin. Could he still take her on that date? _Was it safe?_ Maybe he should rethink Alice’s…

“You know we’d never…” Quincey trailed off. A moment elapsed between them and his brother pulled out his phone when it buzzed, quickly glancing at the screen before he put it back in his pocket. Maybe he _should_ rethink taking Poppy to Alice’s. He’d been stupid, _fuck_. Kissing her in public. He clenched his jaw—it was confusing, the joy when he thought of kissing her mixed with the fear of what might happen if the wrong person found out. Tora had enemies and one of the reasons he’d been at the top of his game for so long was his lack of weaknesses, but now…was there anything he _wouldn’t_ do for that hamster?

“Hey,” Quincey patted his back once, “I can practically hear you brooding. Talk to me.”

Tora remained leaned forward. Quince could read him too well, he needed to at least keep his face hidden from the man in case he needed to lie. “Ya got a light?”

Quincey sighed, “not what I meant, but…yeah.” Tora heard him shift on the bench to retrieve it from his pocket before he stilled. Tora glanced over his shoulder at him, keeping his forehead cradled in his hands.

He took a deep breath. “Thought ya said ya had a light.”

“Oh, I do,” Quincey said, holding it up between his thumb and index finger. “I just have some questions, that’s all,” he raised an eyebrow and smirked lightly as his phone buzzed again. Quincey reached a hand to grab it before changing his mind, his elbow coming back to rest in the palm of the other arm crossed against his chest, the lighter hanging between two fingers.

Tora groaned. “Not in the mood for ya fuckin’ games, Quince. I need a goddamned smoke.”

“Clearly.”

Tora glared at him. He could be a real piece of shit. “Fuck, fine—one question.”

Quincey considered, keeping his arms crossed but rubbing his hands up and down his biceps slowly. “Does _tell me everything_ count as one?”

Tora felt his nostrils flare as he clenched his jaw. “Not in the fuckin’ mood, Quince. How many times I gotta tell ya. Do I need to write it on ya fuckin’ head?”

Quincey huffed, “fine.” He rested his chin against the heel of his palm, “what about strawberry girl?”

_The fuck?_ Tora sat up, whipping his head around. He stared at Quincey with his eyebrows pulled down low, his mouth a firm line. “The fuck ya talkin’ about?” Tora’d never told anyone about her. How the hell did Quincey know about that?

“I thought the point of my question was to get an answer and then you get your light,” Quincey said. “Not that you’d get to ask _me_ a question without ever answering _mine_.” He narrowed his eyes.

_For fuck’s sake._ Tora leaned back into the bench. He watched as a bus pulled up to the corner and a woman got off. The driver inclined his head toward the two men on the bench. Tora shook his head slightly and the man nodded before pulling the doors closed shut. A couple women at the back of the bus stared at him, smiling and ducking their heads together before turning to look back up at the brooding man on the bench. Tora rolled his eyes, _of all fuckin’ days_ … He watched as the bus pulled away, wishing more than anything he could buy a ticket to fuck-knows-where and not have to worry about the clan. He would take Bobby somewhere nice, he had money. Maybe the beach. He’d heard chicks dig the beach. Wasn’t sure what could be so great about a bunch of sand and some water, but then again, he’d never been. Closest he’d gotten was Moonbright—he’d driven by the sign for the local beach the one time he’d tried to find her again, braking to consider it, before changing his mind. Wasn’t meant for him. Vince had made that damn clear as a kid.

“Tora?”

“I don’t know what the fuck ya talkin’ about. Gimme the light,” he extended a palm to Quincey, “or I’ll fuckin’ take it from ya.”

Quincey huffed, handing him the lighter, knowing his brother wouldn’t hesitate to choke him out again. Finally, _sweet fuck, finally_ Tora inhaled, holding the nicotine in his lungs for a couple long seconds before he slowly exhaled. _Holy shit, he’d needed that._

“Do I at least get a different—”

“That girl’s got nothin’ to do with fuck all,” he bit out. “Don’t know how ya fuckin’ found out about her, but I don’t need ya stickin’ ya fuckin’ nose where it don’t belong.” He took another drag, “now, before I beat ya ass, how the _fuck_ d’ya know about her?”

“ _You_ ,” he said, tapping Tora’s bicep with the back of his hand, “you big goof.” Quincey looked at Tora who was somehow frowning even harder as he tried to process what his brother was implying. _He_ had told Quincey? Since fuckin’ when? “On your 25th. Right after the cake. You made a wish—”

“—Didn’t.”

“You _did_ ,” Quincey emphasized the word as he talked over his brother, and Tora rolled his eyes, turning to look at the trash can beside them. A couple flies perched on the rim, and Tora watched as, every couple of seconds, they’d hop around each other, flipping up into the air before quickly falling back into each other. Engaged in a dance of their own making. 

“Fuck, Quince. I remember. Specifically, I remember ya tellin’ me to spit on a cake and make a wish,” he said, before muttering around his cigarette, “fucked up wish-spit shit.” He took a drag. “And I remember. Didn’t fuckin’ make one.”

“You did,” Quincey said, rolling his eyes and readjusting his legs so that the left folded over the right, away from Tora. “It was later—not the cake.”

Tora stared at Quincey. _Oh shit_ , he realized, remembering the little glass shooter Quincey’d pushed into his hand—a “one-time thing for the big 2-5,” he’d insisted. _It must’ve been after the shot, fuckin’ Quince._ Tora hadn’t removed his eyes from his brother’s, his mouth parted around the cigarette. “The fuck did I say?” he asked softly. He really hated this feeling of no control—holy shit, had he… _blacked out?_ Lost control of his body and hadn’t even remembered it? For a fuckin’ year? Tora swallowed, waiting for his brother to say something, anything. What the hell had happened? Quincey looked nervous, his foot bobbed a little faster as he said something about Tora wanting to meet the girl. “I don’t want that,” Tora said finally, after a long moment of silence in which he’d taken two more drags. Quincey raised his eyebrows slightly, but said nothing. “Need a favor.”

“Oh?”

Tora couldn’t bring himself to look over at the smug bastard, he could hear the smirk in the son of bitch’s voice. “P—the girl ya saw, I told her I could put her in touch with ya.”

Quincey raised his eyebrows higher. “Like…meeting the family?” he asked, a barely concealed note of glee threaded through his question. His foot had stopped bobbing.

“Fuck, Quince,” Tora smacked him upside the head, though lighter than he normally would’ve done. He _did_ need a favor, didn’t want to piss him off too much. “She works with books and shit. An editor,” he brought the cigarette to his lips and inhaled one last time before stubbing it out on the bench. He felt much better. Something about thinking of the strawberry girl had always calmed him down, even all these years later. But now, Tora realized nearly grinning before he remembered who he was with, it was Bobby who brought him that sense of calm and peace. Like he had some kind of control over his life, wasn’t just a rock hurtling aimlessly through space. 

“So, she wants something from me.” Quincey eyed him skeptically. “Tora…”

No. No way was the Quincess gonna make him doubt his Bobby. “Don’t fuckin’ say what I know ya gonna say. She doesn’t know who the fuck ya are—just Noyouko.” _Shit, he could use another smoke_. Quince had that effect on him. Suddenly, Tora stood, flicking his butt into the trash beside them. He rounded on Quincey who had stood up to join him on the way back to the car. Tora pressed a finger into the other man’s chest, he needed his brother to understand him, the importance of this. Poppylan was fuckin’ important. “When the fuck do I ever ask ya for anything.”

Quincey grinned at him, “well, I mean two times today—” the rest of what he’d been about to say died in his throat at the look Tora gave him. “Never.”

“Want ya to remember that when ya meet her, cause ya gonna give her whatever the fuck she wants. We good?”

Quincey didn’t look happy, but Tora couldn’t bring himself to give a shit.

*

Tora ran his fingers over the tops of the large yellow flowers in one of the vases of the self-misting shelves along the wall of the flower shop. He hadn’t realized they’d been set to water on a timer, moments ago pulling his hand back suddenly as the bouquets were doused with spray. He’d never been to a shop like this before—hadn’t even known they existed. Why the fuck not just sell the whole goddamn plant instead of chopping it up? But then, he noted, looking toward the back wall to his left beyond the cash register where he saw an entrance to a tent-like room, it seemed like they sold those, too. He could feel the humidity radiating from the open archway, and more than a couple times since arriving had he peered curiously into the bright room—intrigued by the sunlight filtering through the papery white roof. It was unlike anything he’d ever seen before—the walls were so thin he could see the shadows of people passing by outside.

He’d texted Gyu on Thursday after having tried searching online for cute shit to give a girl on a date. The Google had told him he should get her some flowers, but he hadn’t known the first thing about where to get them from. Could he buy them? Or was he supposed to go out and pick them? He was in a fuckin’ city—the only flowers around were planted in the shitty little government-subsidized medians around downtown where people like Tora flicked their cigarettes. No way was he giving Bobby shitty trash flowers. Gyu’d seemed eager to help, not daring to ask any questions about why his Big Bro would need to know where to get flowers, and Tora hadn’t brought up the question that’d been nagging him since Chevy’s, not wanting Gyu to put two and two together that he was seeing Poppy again. He was starting to think the man was a lot sharper than he let on. Still, he needed to find out how Gyu knew her and why he’d lied about not being able to track her down from the photo. Some other time.

Gyu’d sent some directions to Tora’s phone, reassuring his Big Bro that all he’d need to do was open the Maps app and the shit would pop up. Tora’d rolled his eyes, sure that it’d be more complicated than that. But, sure as shit, Gyu’d been right. The florist that the smaller man had directed Tora was only a short way from the address Poppy had texted him earlier that morning. His blood had run cold when he’d read where she lived—in the gray space between Balthuman and Ninedaggers territory. How’d she managed to pick such a dangerous cross-section of the city? It’s not like the area was especially high in crime when compared to the rest of the city—not like Ares Street. But neutral territory in Narin was never neutral for long, constantly shifting based on the lower levels of clan membership. He’d have to see if she’d consider moving and if that failed, maybe he could see about setting up some surveillance. He’d rather avoid that option if at all possible—felt weird to invade her privacy like that. Shit, he hadn’t even been invited over yet.

Tora huffed, turning his back to the wall again and walking slowly down the aisle flush with fresh blooms. He had no idea which she might like. He’d searched the storefront for the red poppies that adorned her shoulder to no avail. He glanced over at the clerk behind the register who—mercifully—wasn’t watching Tora like a hawk the way so many other store employees usually did. The woman seemed intent on the green cube in front of her, carefully stripping the lower leaves off of the flowers that sat in a pile on the counter before poking the stems into the cube. Seemed to be some kind of foam, Tora had no idea what the fuck the woman was doing, but she looked content with the task at hand. Maybe he should try asking her about poppies, Tora thought.

Without realizing it, Tora had gravitated toward a black bucket full of peonies, many of the bulbous buds just beginning to open up. His hand had found one of the blooms that was partway open, fingering one of the pink petals with his thumb and index finger. It felt like velvet, reminding him of the way Poppy’s small finger had felt on his palm when she’d allowed him to hold her hand on Wednesday. His heart skipped against his ribs as he smiled—he’d be seeing her so soon. The only things he had left to do were to make up his damn mind on these flowers and get dressed. He’d already called Alice ahead of time to place a takeout order for later that night. The old bat had pestered him—it’d been a couple weeks since Tora’d been able to duck in for a visit. Apparently, Fred had been asking about him. Tora wondered if the old man had finally realized who was giving out his joint’s number to the steady stream of women he loved to complain to Alice about. _Eh, he can live with it_ , Tora’d decided. Besides, maybe it was good for business.

He pulled out his phone to check the time—just an hour to go before he’d see her smile again. Tora couldn’t resist—he pulled up his messages with Poppy, scrolling to Wednesday when he’d texted her goodnight.

@Bobby: Night, Tor.

_Pfft, pfft, fuckin’ feisty_. She really was somethin’ else—always ready with a quick comeback no matter what he dealt her. He smirked. His Bob was fuckin’ smart. Tora’s thumb hovered over his screen. He bit the corner of his mouth, should he text her now? It’d been several hours since she’d sent her address and his phone’d been burning a hole in his pocket all day as he resisted the urge to send her shit constantly. Yesterday after he’d made his drop-offs at the mansion and reported back to Vincent on the status of Goliath’s shithole hideouts that he’d wasted time revisiting early that morning, he’d seen a fuckin’ chipmunk munchin’ on a nut. He’d taken a picture, it was too fuckin’ cute, like her, and had been about to send it before he’d stopped himself. Fuck if he was gonna come across too strong. He didn’t wanna scare her off before they’d even had dinner. He tucked the phone back in his pocket, deciding against it. He’d see her soon anyway. _Can make it a damn hour, ya sucker_.

Tora approached the counter, arms folded across his leather jacket as he stared at the clerk who was still bent over the fuckin’ cube. “Oi,” he nodded toward the woman who startled when she saw Tora watching her. Had she really not noticed Tora’s six-foot-three frame in front of her? _Goddamn_ , how’d the woman made it this far in life? She looked at least about sixty and she was half his size.

“Afternoon, young man,” the woman wiped her hands on the dirt-stained apron that hung from her neck, “you need help finding anything?” She smiled warmly at Tora— _that was new_. Most people couldn’t hide the shudder down their spines if they made eye contact with him, but this woman was, what, smiling? Tora huffed once through his nose, _huh, she’s like Poppy—must be okay_.

“Nah, need something for a date—ya got any poppies?” Tora glanced behind the woman back toward the tent room. It was almost unnerving how easily she held his gaze. 

“Mmm, yes,” the woman turned and walked back toward the tent room, waving for Tora to follow. He couldn’t help it—Tora wondered briefly of the possibility of a trap, of this unassuming old woman leading him to clan members who would surely report back to Vincent that Tora, Tiger of Ares Street, was buying some fuckin’ flowers for a date. And then Vincent would— _no, shut up. That’s fuckin’ stupid_ , he thought. Besides, the walls were made of plastic sheeting, he realized. It’d be easy to make a quick escape if necessary.

The woman stopped in front of a black plastic shelf with hexagonal holes cut into it, where she reached into the dense thicket of red flowers and pulled out…a pot? It was the whole damn plant, Tora realized as she turned to hold it out to him.

“Couldn’t bring myself to trim these ones,” she hummed as she watched his confusion slip away. _Would Poppy like them?_ Maybe he should get her something else, too. Just in case.

Tora took the pot and immediately loosened his grip on it, having felt the surprisingly thin plastic start to split on opposite sides of the container along his thumb and middle finger. He brought his other hand up and placed it gingerly under the plant, wary it might crumble in his hands. What a shit gift that’d be. He cleared his throat, “ya got anything tiny?” he asked. “My girl likes cute shit.”

She smiled at him, turning back toward the front of the store already, “oh, boy, do I ever,” she called over her shoulder, nodding her head for Tora to follow once again. It took a moment for him to find the strength to lift his foot. The tent room was like its own special world—he could hear bees— _fuckin’ bees? In the city?—_ nuzzling into the flowers against the soft whir of a large fan at the back wall. He had to laugh at himself when he realized he almost didn’t want to leave the humid little room, despite his leather jacket. Maybe he could take Bobby here sometime. He wondered if she’d like it.

He followed the woman to the front of the counter where she pointed to a display of little spikey plants in the tiniest fuckin’ pots. _Ha, Bobby was gonna love this_. He pulled up one that had a face on it—looked kinda like the face on her fake strawberry. “This one,” he said, nodding solemnly at the thing as the woman smiled.

*

Tora paced the front room in his apartment, hand twirling his phone between his thumb and middle finger. He almost ran his other hand through his hair but was stopped suddenly by the bill of his hat, instead moving his palm to the side of his neck where he anxiously rubbed the healing skin. He kept forgetting he’d put the fuckin’ hat on to cover the way his stupid fuckin’ hair refused to cooperate. He considered, again, if he should hop back in the shower. _And show up with wet hair? Fuck,_ he let out a shaky breath and flopped back onto the couch, hand still against the tattoo on his neck. When he’d gotten out of the shower earlier, he’d checked the damage to see if he should cover it with bandages again—didn’t want to gross her out, though, _maybe it wouldn’t faze her_ , he thought, remembering the way she’d gently pulled them back to care for his wounds that week. He couldn’t help the bitter smile that stole across his face as he examined the damage to the tattoo—sure, it was still Vincent’s mark, but Tora took a twisted kind of satisfaction in seeing the way his healing skin had marred the design. He’d run his fingers over the scabs, deciding against a bandage. It’d heal faster in the open air anyway. Needed to breathe and shit.

If he were an average driver, it’d probably take him fifteen or twenty minutes to get to Poppy’s place from his, but he knew himself well enough by now to know he’d probably gun it to her place and make it in ten, tops. Which left another ten minutes before he should leave. _Fuck_. He glanced over to the plants by the door—didn’t want to forget those—and then to the blue-labeled bottle of wine on his console that he’d told Quincey last week that he’d gotten for himself. Tora couldn’t believe it’d already and only been a week since meeting Poppy. Shit, how’d he gone so long without knowing her? She wasn’t that much younger than him, and the city was pretty tiny. Maybe she was from out of town? He frowned. He really didn’t know much about her at all, he was reminded, but he was going to change that tonight.

Tora leaned back, letting his head fall to the side. He felt jittery…too nervous for a smoke, but he still craved the comfort of the habit. Fuck, this woman really did a number on him. Tora pulled out the pack of cigarettes from his pocket and pull one out, tucking it between his lips. Better. Kind of. He felt his phone buzz and smiled when he looked down

@Bobby: Dress code?

He immediately thumbed back a reply and waited, hoping she’d type back. He’d left it vague—she could wear whatever she wanted. Tora’d like her in anything. _And nothing_ , he thought with a smirk before he saw the text bubbles appear.

@Bobby: What are you wearing?

Tora looked down. He’d chosen a dark green dress shirt, sleeves rolled up his forearms so it looked a little less formal, and some dark jeans. Nothin’ fancy. He considered for a second that he could just tell her that. Or that they’d be spending time outside—did girls need to know about that kind of shit when they got ready? He definitely wouldn’t want to wear a suit to a picnic. He thumbed a reply telling her to dress comfortably, but then erased it. Where was the fun in that? He smirked as he thought of a better answer.

@Tora: well shit sweetheart, this date startin early?

That’d get her cheeks blushing, he was positive. But he’d seen her blush to her arms a couple nights ago. He decided to push.

@Tora: i’ll show ya mine if ya show me yours

Tora reached up and readjusted the bill of his hat, grinning wide as he waited for her response. Maybe she wouldn’t reply. Either way, he could tease her about it in person in just a little while. Was it time to leave yet? He checked his phone, noticing his screen had locked in the moments that had passed since he’d sent his last text. Had he pushed too far? _Nah_ , he thought, _she’s probably just gettin’ ready_. His phone had dimmed again and was just about to go dark when her name lit up the screen again. Tora smiled, unlocking the device and his brows raised a little seeing that she’d sent him an image along with the words “be honest.” He laughed as he tapped on the photo to download it—she was too fuckin’ funny. He was already thinking of how he should tell her he liked whatever outfit she’d chosen when his heart stopped. He felt his bottom lip pull away from his top as the cigarette he’d been holding in his mouth dropped to his lap.

He sat up suddenly, holding the phone closer to his face and lifting his hat slightly by the bill. She’d sent a picture of what looked like the corner of her room—he could see a chest of drawers against the wall and a door partly open and tucked behind a standing mirror. She’d arranged what looked like a black dress over the right corner of the frame, and Tora ran his tongue absent-mindedly along his molars as he eyed how far down the neckline of the dress seemed to go. He felt his cock twitch in his jeans as he imagined how nicely his Bobby would fill out the slip of fabric. _Oh, that would do_. _That would do very well._

He exited back to the message, thinking what it would be like to look over at her in the car and see more of her than he’d ever dared hope to, and typed out, “shit bobby maybe we should start with dessert.” He smirked, tapping again on the photo—he wanted to see the dress one more time before he sent it to her, give some time in between when she sent her message and when he replied. Maybe it’d make her squirm— _sweet fuck,_ he wanted to make her squirm.

Tora’s mouth ran dry as he stared at the mirror in the photo. He hadn’t noticed before what it reflected, he’d been so focused on the fuckin’ dress. _Fuck the fuckin’ dress_ , he thought as he felt his cock strain against his jeans. Bobby, his fuckin’ Bobby, stood off to the side in front of what looked like her bed wearing nothing but her bra and panties. He thought for a moment his heart had given out—holy shit, he knew it before, but _sweet fuck_ seeing her without clothes…Bobby had a _body_. His mind tried to stop him as his fingers touched the screen in a V, swiping out over her reflection. Tora swallowed. Swallowed again. Was he fuckin’ panting? Her tits practically spilled from the black bra she was strapped into. He wanted nothing more than to press his face between them, drag his tongue down the soft swell of her stomach. _Well, maybe there was something else he wanted more,_ he realized, as his gaze lowered slowly past her hips. He definitely wanted to feel the soft press of her thighs against his ears. Fuck, he wanted that more than anything he’d ever wanted in life. His cock ached, desperately pushing against the thin fabric of his briefs that was pressed against the zipper of his jeans. Why’d he choose such tight fuckin’ pants? Tora’s fingers hovered over Poppy—he swallowed, _shit,_ it was hard to think when all he could feel was the twitch of his cock every time he imagined what it would feel like to touch her in all her previously hidden places…Tora tapped out of the image reluctantly, remembering he hadn’t yet replied to her. There was no way in hell he wanted Bobby to think he didn’t like what he saw. He erased his last message and typed out a new one that he hoped would put her mind at ease after his long silence.

@Tora: left one’s perfect

He stood up quickly, readjusting his hat before he roughly stuck his free hand down his pants, readjusting his cock so it rested in the crease of his hip. Uncomfortable, but better than before. He considered for a second rubbing one out before thinking better of it—way too fuckin’ late for that. He walked to the front door, checking his pocket for his keys when he spotted the three condoms he’d tossed on the console on Wednesday after getting back from the impound lot as he’d quickly changed for a workout, grateful—if a little suspicious—of the night off Quincey had given him. He smirked, unlocking his phone quickly and sending off another text to Poppy before he could reconsider, scooping up two of the golden packets and shoving them into his jeans where he could feel them near his dick. Fuck if he wasn’t gonna see whether dessert was on the menu.

Tora quickly scooped up the plants in one arm and flew out the door of his apartment—sparing a second to lock it before he jogged over to his car. Shit, if he drove fast enough maybe he could make it in five.

He heard his phone buzz as he peeled out of the lot, not bothering to check it—the message could wait until he got to her place. Fuck if he was gonna accidentally run himself off the road just a handful of minutes before he got to see her again. All of her. Before he got to hold her again, press her body to his and feel the way she moved under his hands. His cock throbbed and he groaned—he definitely should’ve taken a minute to rub one out. It wouldn’t have taken long at all he was already so turned on…and that photo of Bobby. Tora pressed his back firmly against the headrest, fully extending his arms on the wheel as he pressed down on the gas.

It’d only taken six minutes, he noted with a smirk as he swiped to open the new message from Pobby.

@Bobby: I showed you mine…

_Sweet holy mother of fuck,_ this woman was gonna kill him. His cheeks ached. He knew he’d been grinnin’ like a fuckin’ idiot the whole drive…but this? She must know what she was doin’, right? He thumbed a reply quickly and stepped out of the car.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’ve started posting some one-shots to accompany this fic - the first and third ones gives a little more backstory on strawberry girl, though not necessary to understand Chasing Poppies.
> 
> Ch. 11: a night to remember?


	11. Like this

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tora picks Poppy up for a first date.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Longest one yet??? Idk, but it sure as shit felt that way. This was…so emotionally draining to write, not gonna lie. Partly for the story and partly for simultaneously watching events in Congress. I hated this chapter until I didn’t—not sure what changed, but here we are. I really hope you like it—I’m gonna do my darnedest to be back with an update tomorrow, but I might need an extra day after this one. 💞💞 I love your comments, I see them all and they keep me going. Thank you so so much for reading 🤗
> 
> As always, characters belong to the real MVP Lilydusk, brilliant creator of Midnight Poppy Land. Support her on Patreon! https://www.patreon.com/lilydusk

**Chapter 11**

Tora pulled himself from the car, quickly slamming the door shut and moving around the hood to lean heavily against the passenger door. He looked down at his phone again, repressing the urge to send Poppy another message. He watched as her text bubbles appeared and he felt himself grinning. _Holy shit,_ he was so close. He pulled out a cigarette from the pack in his pocket and tucked it between his lips. He could fuckin’ wait. Just a few more minutes. He checked his phone again, his grin falling slightly when he saw the text bubbles had disappeared. He brought a hand up to run through his hair, again accidentally catching the bill of his hat. _Fuck,_ why’d he worn the damn thing again? He almost yanked it off before remembering the stupid little curl of hair that’d kept sticking out as he’d gotten dressed. He didn’t want to look like a fool in front of her. He looked down at his phone again, unlocked it. Swiped up on the message chain with Poppy until the little wheel at the bottom stopped spinning, then disappeared. He stared at his last text to her.

@Tora: how bout we pick this up in person sweetheart. i’m out front.

His eyes flicked up to the time in the corner of the screen. He was definitely early—not too much, but he couldn’t deny he was eager. Fuck, his cock still pushed against his jeans, but he’d had some time to calm down—the need to touch himself or, much better yet, _be_ touched wasn’t as urgent. He glanced up at her building through the fence around the lot. Tora could feel his jaw tighten. He tugged the bill of his hat a bit lower, acutely aware of where she lived on an invisible map of gang territory. The security guard posted in a booth at the gate to her building wasn’t very assuring—he hadn’t even glanced at Tora in the handful of minutes since the intimidating man had peeled up to the building, hopping the curb of the sidewalk right outside the fence. He’d been standing at his car in dark clothes and a dark hat, watching the fuckin’ building, for fuck’s sake, and the guard hadn’t even looked up—in fact, Tora thought as he squinted through the window of the security booth, it looked like the man might even be asleep on the job. He huffed, glancing down at the ground beneath his feet, taking in the sight of himself leaned against the car, what Poppy would see when she appeared on the other side of the fence. _Shit, could ya look any more like a thug, ya shady fuck._ Maybe he should have worn lighter colors…he had a white sweater, he thought…somewhere. And even though the city cooled at night, it was still warm out. Maybe he could’ve worn shorts, even. He repressed a smirk as he remembered the way she’d ogled his arm sleeves in the liquor store, maybe she’d like his tiger, too. He pinched his nose before checking his phone again. Had she changed her mind?

Tora lowered the brightness of his screen all the way and scrolled back up slightly until he found the image she’d sent. He tapped it again, zooming in on her mirrored reflection. He felt a pull somewhere behind his navel, _fuck,_ his Bobby was smokin’. He dragged his thumb down the screen until he was looking at her zoomed-in face and he felt the air leave his lungs in a whoosh—he clamped his lips around the unlit cigarette to keep it from puffing out of his mouth. He hadn’t really taken in her face before, _ya dirty fuckin’ bastard_ —he’d been so busy ogling her fuckin’ near-nude body he hadn’t realized the expression on her face wasn’t coy, seemingly wasn’t at all aware that she was visible in the photo she was about to send to him. Poppy was frowning, definitely not a look meant to be fuckin’ sexy. Which meant she must not’ve known, not’ve _intended_ for him to ever see her like that. She looked…worried almost. Not the kind of excited nerves Tora had been feeling all the way from his scalp to his balls for most of the day—no, her eyebrows were drawn together above her nose, her bottom lip worried between her teeth. _And ya fuckin’ zoomed in on her body, ya sick, dirty, greedy fuckin’ bastard._ His jaw tightened. _Well, shit._

Just then he heard a door slam on one of the top floors of the building and his eyes found Poppy’s figure as she locked her front door. He pushed off against the car, shoving his phone in his back pocket before hooking his thumbs in his belt loops. He hadn’t really realized that the doors to each unit opened out onto an outdoor walkway. Shit, it’d be too easy for someone to break in. He rearranged his face into a neutral expression—he could talk to her later about her safety. No need to worry her before the night had even started. He noted she wasn’t wearing the black dress from the photo—maybe that’s why she’d been worried? He swallowed, remembering how far down the neckline had plunged. _Yeah, that must’ve been why she was worried,_ he told himself.

She was wearing something yellow—he couldn’t really tell from this distance, but he knew she’d be breathtaking no matter what she’d chosen to wear. She descended the stairs quickly and he smiled seeing the look on her face as she half-jogged across the parking lot after seeing him on the other side of the fence. She was smiling—no, beaming—the corners of her mouth pushing into her cheeks. _Fuck, she’s beautiful._ Tora’s chest relaxed then, there was no trace of the worried look on her face from before, and from the way she moved easily across the pavement, he could tell she’d chosen something to wear that she was comfortable in. She tugged the handle on the pedestrian gate of the fence nestled between the security booth and the locked entrance for cars, quickly passing through to his side. He smiled at her, holding out a hand which she took almost immediately. At her touch, he felt like something had clicked into place in the center of his chest. _Holy shit_ , he thought, _would it be like this every time?_ Tora wondered if she felt it, too. He hoped she did as he looked her up and down.

And _sweet fuck,_ she was gorgeous. She’d braided her hair again—one thick bundle twisted down her back, and her cheeks were already rosy. He swallowed, wondering if she’d blushed at his messages. Had they helped to pull the worry from her brow? “Jesus, Bobby,” he breathed, moving his hand in hers until their fingers were tangled together. She tightened her grip on him, her cheeks flushing a shade darker.

“What?” she asked softly, finding his eyes in the hazy light of dusk, the soft glow of the streetlamp catching the loose strands of her hair that had escaped her braid.

“Look at ya,” he said drawing her closer until they stood toe to toe, his other hand lifting up from his pocket to rest at the place where her hip dipped into her waist. “Goddamn angel,” he whispered. He let his hand slide gently up then back down her back until it rested again at her waist. He could hardly breathe as he took in the way the neckline of the dress scooped a U against the tops of her tits, the way the fabric hugged her body all the way down to her ass before it flared out. The fabric was soft under his palm—he could feel the heat of her body through the dress. It wasn’t the black one, but holy hell it left little to the imagination, hugging the soft curves of her body in a way that made Tora’s mouth run dry again as he remembered the photo—Poppy, nearly naked in the reflection of the mirror in her bedroom. _Fuck, her bedroom_. He wondered if he’d get to see it tonight, wondered if she was wearing the same underwear right now as she had in the photo. He could feel the tips of his ears heat as he imagined being this close to her without the yellow bit of fabric between them.

He noticed that she shook her head slightly at his words—denial? He glanced down at her arm where he could see her tattoo. It looked like it was healing well, he could see where some of the skin was still raised but she’d made it past the worst of the peeling. He skimmed his hand up from her waist to her elbow, gently turning her so he could see the tattoo more fully. The colors were even more vibrant than when he’d first seen them at Chevy’s. They reminded him of the— _oh, right._

“Gotcha somethin’,” he said as he let go of her arm, leading her by the hand toward the trunk of the car. He dug his keys out of his pocket to open it, quickly pulling out the two plants.

He watched as her eyes went wide and her mouth fell open before splitting into a grin. “Tora!” she beamed at him before grabbing the tiny pot with the face out of his palm. “These are—where did you—” she cut herself off then, reaching up to run her fingers through the poppy plant that he’d cradled against his torso, still worried he might crack the flimsy pot if he held it too firmly. All of a sudden, he felt Poppy’s hand in his as she pulled him back toward the pedestrian gate of her building.

“Wha—sweetheart, where we goin’?” he asked as she punched in a security code quickly on a keypad next to the security booth. _Holy fuck,_ was she inviting him up? Already? They hadn’t even had dinner yet. Maybe he _was_ gonna get dessert first. She liked the plants this much? Hell, he’d go back tomorrow and buy the whole fuckin’ shop. Tora swallowed the hot ball of desire at the base of his throat. Fuck, he wanted her. Wanted to peel that dress away from her, unwrap her slowly, kiss her, touch her, feel her everywhere.

“Well, they need water,” she said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “Wouldn’t want them to dry out in your car.”

Her answer pulled him from his thoughts of what might unfold in her apartment at the top of the stairs. He looked down at the poppies he held in the crook of his arm, remembering the misting shelves at the flower shop. _Huh._ He hadn’t even considered that his gifts would require fuckin’ maintenance. _Some gifts_ , he thought. Maybe he _shouldn’t_ buy her more. _Well, fuck, ya stupid fuckin’—_ Poppy stopped short at the steps of her building and Tora bumped into her from behind, catching himself quickly and reaching a hand to steady her against him by the waist.

She turned to look back up at him. “Would you mind going first?”

He frowned, “somethin’ wrong, Bobby?”

“No!” she said, blushing brilliantly and turning back to look up at the stairs.

 _The fuck?_ He wondered what could possibly make her blush so fiercely as a breeze gently ruffled the hem of her dress, blowing the ends up lightly around her knees and against the fabric of his jeans. _Wait…_ slowly, he smirked. Tora leaned down over her shoulder, feeling the heat of her back nearly touching his torso. “Whatcha worried ‘bout, Bobby?” He felt her body shiver before she stepped to the side, grabbing the railing closest to the outer wall of the building.

“After you, tiger,” she said, waving an open palm toward the stairs. _Pfft_. _Tiger_ , he’d show _her_ his fuckin’ tiger. He paused for a moment—this seemed like an about-face from the Poppy who’d been texting him, the Poppy who’d sent him _that_ photo. Was she being a tease or did she really not know what this bold-shy shit was doin’ to him? His chest clenched a little at the thought that maybe his analysis had been right—maybe she really hadn’t known she’d sent him a naked picture. But fuck if he didn’t want to pin her to the fuckin’ wall. _Not yet_. And definitely not out here where anyone could see or sneak up on them.

Tora turned from her, climbing the steps to her apartment. _Shit, this was really fuckin’ happening_ , he thought as the landing grew closer. He wondered what her apartment looked like. Probably had a lot of cute, tiny shit like her. She’d really seemed to like the little spikey plant—maybe she had more of them? Or maybe it was the goofy face on the pot that she liked. When he’d reached the landing, Tora turned back to look at her and felt a grin split across his face as he watched her eyes quickly glance away from where she’d been staring at his ass. _Fuck, ya can stare at my ass all ya want, sweetheart_. He licked his lips and smirked when she finally looked back at him, quickly passing him on the landing to get to her door. He’d felt the heat of her body as she’d brushed by him and his cock had reacted with anticipation.

Tora watched as she moved the key in the lock before she turned to look back at him. “You can’t judge,” she said, a serious look on her face.

Tora narrowed his eyes, “look who’s talkin’.” She rolled her eyes but brought her gaze back to his. He clicked his tongue against his teeth and held his free hand up in the air, palm facing her in surrender as he shrugged his shoulder. As she turned back toward the door to get the knob, Tora glanced up and down her backside. He’d never really gotten the chance to admire her from this angle, but damn, he’d been right—even though it wasn’t the black dress, she filled out the yellow outfit in a way that had him readjusting himself with his hand in his pocket.

Poppy opened the door and flicked on the light to her apartment. He waited to see whether she would toe off her shoes and when she did, he followed suit. He couldn’t help but smile when he saw her little toes— _how was she so fuckin’ tiny?_ He gulped sharply thinking of what it’d feel like to have her bare foot pressed against his chest, her knee bent up by her elbow… _don’t get ahead of yourself_. But it was impossible not to, finally here in her space where everything smelled of her, felt like her. The condoms felt electric in his pocket. He was acutely aware of them with each move of his leg, the little foil teeth on the edges skimming him through the thin fabric interior of his pocket.

He looked around, closing the door behind him and sliding the deadbolt, desperate to calm himself—fuck if he was gonna scare her away now with a fuckin’ horndog tent in his pants. Her apartment was the very definition of where he would’ve imagined her living. Tiny lights hung from the low ceiling, diffusing a soft, warm glow over the main area where she had a couch facing a balcony and a rug. Two large archways led out into what looked to be her kitchen on one side and—Tora swallowed, there was the mirror. Through the second archway, he could see the black dress still hung off the side. What he wouldn’t give to see her in it…maybe some other time, he hoped. Sweet fuck, he hoped she wanted to do this again—whatever the night held. Tora glanced over at Poppy who had moved across the room to the kitchen to pour some water into the pot of poppies.

He walked over to lean against the kitchen doorway, watching as she moved the stems gently, trying to pour the water evenly around the base of the plant. Her fingers skimmed the soil, patting lightly to check for dry spots. He smiled—she was a livin’ fuckin’ angel, in the flesh. He thought back to the moment she’d walked into the door at the liquor store. How’d a sick fucker like him get the chance to know this woman? “Didn’t realize ya liked plants so much,” he offered, glancing back behind him at the small living space which had pots scattered about on most of the surfaces. A couple hung from the ceiling. Through the glass, he could see her balcony was littered with them.

He heard the smile in her voice as she leaned back and fingered one of the petals, “I miss having a garden—the balcony’s great,” she gestured past Tora into the other room, “but it’s just not the same.”

“As what?”

She turned to him, picking up a dishcloth and leaning back against the counter. “You know, working with the earth, really getting in there and growing something from the ground up.”

“So…gettin’ dirty,” Tora said with a smirk as he cocked an eyebrow. “I mean, shit, Bobby. We don’t need a garden for that.”

 _Pfft,_ she flicked the towel at him before setting it down. “Thought you were taking me to dinner.”

Tora drew his bottom lip between his teeth, taking two large steps across the room until he was on top of her, their torsos barely a breath apart. He leaned down, palms finding the counter on either side of her. He dipped his head low until his mouth skimmed the side of her jaw, “why not both.” He willed her to turn her head, her lips were so close. Just as he was about to reach up to turn her towards him, she placed her hands on his torso, one on either side of his ribcage.

“Maybe if you’re good.” She turned to look at him and he blinked at her.

“Fuckin’ feisty, Bobby.” Her stomach growled then and they both glanced down. Poppy laughed as a blush crept over her cheeks and Tora stood back up. “Kay, Bob. Let’s ya some food.” He smirked as she aimed for his arm, easily dodging the blow. He caught her wrist then, pressing an open-mouthed kiss against the inside of her arm. “Careful, Bobby. Ya playin’ with fire.” He held her gaze for a moment, his lips still parted against her skin.

“W-we should get going,” she breathed after a moment, gently pressing her free hand against his stomach. It wasn’t lost on him that she had not pulled her wrist from his hand, her arm away from his mouth. After a moment, he let his fingers slip from her wrist, bringing their arms down until his fingers wrapped around hers.

“Ready when you are, Bobby.”

“Hmm,” she hummed, slipping out from between his body and the counter, moving back out into the living room toward the door. He watched as she brushed her fingers along the tops of her plants as she passed by them.

“Whatcha doin’, sweetheart?” he asked, following a couple steps behind her. He reached out and held one of the leaves on a plant hanging from the ceiling at his eye level—it was fuzzy, soft like her. “Ya feel up all ya plants or just the special ones?” He glanced over at her just in time to see her roll her eyes.

“You have to give them _love_ , Tora,” she emphasized the word love and Tora had to close his mouth to stop himself from exhaling audibly. _Love?_ He must have looked confused as they toed their shoes back on because she continued, “ _all_ living things need love.” His jaw tightened. “So, I tell them I care about them,” she trailed her fingers up his arm, “like this.”

Tora couldn’t find the words to reply to her—they were stuck somewhere at the base of his throat. She turned from him then, unlocking the deadbolt and opening the door. He didn’t deserve this woman.

“So, you still haven’t told me where we’re going,” she said as they approached the car. Tora smirked.

“Wouldn’t ya like to know,” he said, reaching out to the passenger door handle to open it for her.

“You know, I’ve only ever walked into one car door before,” she said as he watched her climb in, a smile tugging at her lips.

“Sweetheart, I didn’t even know that was possible,” he laughed, bending down and gently swiping his hand along the edge of her dress to tuck in the loose fabric hanging off the side of her seat. His fingers brushed her thigh and he watched as goosebumps erupted down her leg from the hem of her dress where he could see the rounded line of the bottom of the strawberry, faded since he’d last seen it. He flicked his eyes up to look at her, meeting her gaze. She stared back at him, brown eyes wide and mouth parted. Their faces were so close he could feel her breathing warm on his skin. Tora held still as he watched her slowly lean closer, reaching up to hold the curve of his jaw lightly with two fingers before pressing her lips softly against his.

Dusk settled into the space at the edge of night as he moved his lips against hers, the inside of his car dark and quiet—only the sound of crickets on the breeze and their shallow inhales through their noses. _Sweet fuck,_ he let his eyes close. He’d missed the feel of her mouth on his. He leaned into her, the hand that had rested against the side of the car seat moving down to circle her bare calf where he could feel the raised bumps along her skin alight with desire. _If ya don’t stop now…shit._ Tora eased away from her lips gently, moving his hand down to her ankle then back up to her calf before squeezing lightly. “As much as I wanna take ya back upstairs, sweetheart,” he watched as a blush colored the skin along her chest, “I promised ya dinner first.”

He watched her throat move as she swallowed, waiting until she nodded her head before he pulled himself back up. His back twinged with the movement, but he didn’t care. He couldn’t believe his luck—he had a goddamn angel in his car, precious fuckin’ cargo. He closed the door and jogged around the hood to get in.

“So, where’re you taking us?” she asked once he’d pulled away from the curb, driving slower than he normally would as he remembered her jab about his parking a couple days ago.

“Ya gonna like it,” he said, glancing at the rearview mirror. As the sun met the horizon, the shadows of the trees along her road had grown darker—it would be too easy for someone to lurk unnoticed, _especially with that useless fuckin’ security guard_ , he thought. Shit, maybe he should see about gettin’ one of his guys to man the post. Maybe that’d be too invasive, too much too soon. He’d only know Poppy a week but he sure as shit would do anything to protect the tiny woman in the seat beside him. He glanced over at her, smiling to himself at the way she peered out the window, clearly intrigued as to where he was taking her. _Alice is gonna love her_. Could already hear the old bat the next time he’d see her goin’ on about finally bringin’ a girl ‘round. The normal twinge of annoyance he would’ve felt at her meddling though simply wasn’t there. He swallowed once, glancing at the ring on his finger as it glinted every couple seconds as they passed under streetlamps. _Joe would’ve been happy for him, too_.

“You sure?” she asked back without looking at him. He watched as she touched the fingertips of her right hand to the car door below the window, leaning her head closer to the glass so she could peer around the bend in the road ahead.

“Yeah, Bobby,” he smirked, “sure as shit.”

“Or full of it,” she quipped.

 _Pfft, pfft, fuckin’ feisty_ , “Sweetheart, I’m _positive_ ya gonna like it.

“You seem pretty confident for someone who only eats salads.”

“And protein shakes.” She laughed then, the sound filling the dead space of the car between them, radiating warmth in the tiny space and filling Tora with pride. He made her laugh—full on head back, shoulders heaving laugh. That had to count for something. He waited until she’d quieted, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand, then continued more seriously, “no salads, I swear.”

“Pinky?”

He turned to look at her. They’d nearly reached Alice’s, the lights of the low city buildings flashing behind her head made it seem like she was gliding. _My fuckin’ angel_. “Yeah, Bobby. Pinky.” He held his right hand toward her, pinky extended from his fist as his elbow rested on the console between them. He looked back at the road, then felt her finger close around his.

He turned down an alley then, quickly throwing the car into park, turning to smirk at her as he unbuckled first her then his seatbelt. “Had to choose a place that’d pass Miss Judgy’s test.”

“I guess we’ll see,” she said as he climbed out of the car, walking to her side of the door and opening it for her. He took her hand, helping her out before leading her by her fingers to the low door beside a fake cherry tree. Poppy’s hand slipped from his as she leaned forward to smell the tree, frowning slightly as Tora snickered behind his hand. “It’s fake, Bob,” he said as she turned to direct her frown at him, her eyebrows pulling further together. “Like ya strawberry,” he smirked, taking her hand again before sliding open the door to Alice’s.

Tora entered first, ducking his head to avoid the beam he’d smacked against more than enough times in all the years he’d known the old woman. Even as a teenager working in the kitchen, he’d been tall enough that his head had skimmed the splintered wood. Now, though, if he didn’t bend down as he stepped over the threshold, he’d crack his fuckin’ forehead open. He released Poppy’s hand, walking over to the low desk at the front and leaning over it. “Oi, Alice!” he called and felt a pinch on his elbow as Poppy stared at him wide-eyed.

“Tora!” she whispered. Oh, she was in for a treat if she thought _that_ would bother Alice.

He smirked at Poppy, then half-turning his head while keeping his eyes on hers, shouted louder toward the back where he knew she would be, “Oi! Alice! Order up!”

Poppy grabbed his arm, wrapping two hands around his bicep and, even as his body shook with silent laughs, he noted with some pride how her hands couldn’t fully circle his arm.

“The fuck!” a thwack landed sharp on the top of Tora’s hat and he whipped back around to the desk where Alice stood, holding a thick pink vape between two of her fingers.

“‘Bout time you dragged ya ass around,” she took a puff, eyeing him through the thick, smudged lenses of her glasses. “Freddie’s been askin’ about ya and what can I tell him? The boy’s too busy for his old Alice.”

Tora rolled his eyes, letting his mouth fall open in exaggerated annoyance. “Yeah, yeah.”

 _Tch_ , she inhaled again before blowing smoke into the space across the desk.

He readjusted his hat. “Took ya so long, Alice? We been waitin’ all night.”

Poppy gasped behind him, her hands tightening even further around his bicep in shock. Alice must’ve heard her, too, since she suddenly snapped her mouth closed, abruptly cutting off whatever retort she’d been about to dish back and grinned wide. “So, this little lamb’s why ya wanted the ginseng tea, hmm?” She smiled at Poppy.

“What ya talkin’ ‘bout, Alice? Didn’t order any—”

She leaned across the desk and lowered her voice, nudging Tora’s elbow out of the way. “It’s an aphrodisiac, little lady,” she said to Poppy, “get ya in the mood. Not that ya need it with this one,” she slapped the back of her hand against Tora’s arm where Poppy had suddenly released him taking a step back, blushing furiously.

“Oi, Alice!”

“What? Ya brought a nice, juicy, little lamb straight up to ya lair—” _No fuckin’ way_. He tore around the side of the desk, grabbing Alice by the arm and pulled her back toward the kitchen as she called back over her shoulder to Poppy, “make sure to get the magnums, little lady!”

“Alice, the fuck?” he let go of her arm after ducking them into the kitchen. He looked around quickly, spotting the takeout bag on the far counter, quickly striding across the room. Tora grabbed the plastic bag with one hand while digging into his back pocket with the other for his wallet. He snatched a couple of large bills from his wallet and stuffed them into her hand, sighing, “I’ll come by this week with more, ya fuckin’ cockblock.” He didn’t wait for her reply before ducking back out into the other room where Poppy hadn’t moved. She held a hand to her mouth and her face was still pink.

He groaned, quickly taking her other hand and leading her back out into the alley. “Well, that was Alice,” he said as he opened the passenger side door for her, settling the bag of takeout in her lap before quickly skimming a hand along her dress again. Fuck if he didn’t want to caress the bare skin of her leg again, but there was a good chance the old bat was already on her way to the alley. He quickly shut the door and jogged around the car, throwing himself into the driver’s seat before quickly backing up and peeling out onto the road.

“I see where you get it from,” she said. He could feel Poppy’s eyes on the side of his face, but he wasn’t ready to look at her. Leave it to fuckin’ Alice to manage to embarrass him in front of her. Shit, he’d wanted to make _Poppy_ squirm, not the other way around. _Never again_ , he thought. Alice’d never see her again, the fuckin’ old bat.

“Get what from?” he grunted, taking the turn to head up the familiar winding road.

“That,” she said. When he glanced over, she was pointing at his mouth.

“Nah, don’t know what ya mean, sweetheart,” he repressed a smile.

 _Tch_ , he glanced over as she rolled her eyes, clicking her teeth quietly.

He knew exactly what she fuckin’ meant. The old woman had practically raised him with Joe. He knew he’d picked up some of her mannerisms along the way, hell, even her bad habits. Save for gambling, that was Goliath’s— _nope, ya not gonna think about that fucker right now._ Tora slowed down as the curves became more pinched, the grade of the road pitching higher as they climbed above the city. She hadn’t asked again where they were going, and he felt a warmth swell in his chest that this tiny hamster beside him trusted him enough to lead her through the darkness.

He heard the crinkle of the bag as Poppy opened the top. Tora glanced over just as she reached into the bag.

“Oi, Bobby,” he laughed, reminded of the time she’d snuck a sip of his drink at Chevy’s, “the fuck ya doin’ over there?”

She looked up at him with wide eyes, “sampling,” she said, as she pulled out a piece of salmon maki, biting half of it. _Sampling? Pfft._ He didn’t think he’d ever get over the balls on his Bobby. “Here,” she said, pushing the other half against his mouth which he opened just in time. Her fingers brushed his bottom lip and the feel of her skin on his sent a jolt up the back of his head where he could feel his scalp tingle beneath his hat. “You’ve never done this?” she asked, she seemed genuinely intrigued as she pulled out another piece, biting off half and feeding him the other again. _No, but ya could get used this. Couldn’t ya, ya sucker._

He chewed quickly and swallowed, watching as she grabbed a third piece to repeat the process. He laughed, “ya gonna eat it all before we even get there.”

She paused, slowly lowering her hand into the bag to put it back. When he glanced over at her, her expression was tight. Controlled. _There ya go, ruinin’ the moment, ya dumb fuck_. He wasn’t sure what it was about the words that’d just come out of his mouth, but they’d clearly acted like some kind of wall dropping down around her, cutting him off from where he could reach her. He needed to undo his mistake, lift her back to him. “Open the other box,” he said nodding his head toward the bag in her lap, hoping to salvage whatever they’d just shared. “Got more than just the salmon.”

He watched from the corner of his eye as she glanced over at him before he heard the bag rustle again and she was pressing another piece to his mouth. _The fuck…?_ He chewed and swallowed. “Bobby, that’s the salmon.”

“But it’s my favorite,” she said, as she chewed, turning to smile at him.

He laughed, “fair enough.” He slowly wound around the last bend in the road, heart beating quickly in his chest as he said, “pass me another.” As she reached into the bag, he reconsidered, “wait— tuna though.”

She hummed, then popped a piece in her mouth. “Mmm, very good. Ten out of ten, would eat again.”

“Was that mine?” he smirked over at her as the road opened up into a clearing. She giggled and he rolled his eyes. “Ya lucky ya a cute hamster.”

They reached the top ,and Tora smiled as he heard Poppy breathe in suddenly. If he thought about it—and he _had_ quite a bit in planning his night with Poppy—this might be his favorite place in Narin. He wanted her to understand how special it was with every fiber in his being. “Ya like it, Bobby?” he asked softly as he rolled to a stop, throwing the car in park and turning the key in the ignition.

She gazed open-mouthed through the windshield before she quickly handed him the takeout bag and pushed herself from the car. He watched her from the driver’s seat for a moment, holding his breath, not quite daring to hope. But it looked like…Poppy turned to look at him and he got out of the car, moving to place the takeout bag on the roof before he walked over to her.

“What is this place?” she asked, looking up at him as he approached. Tora put a hand on the small of her back and walked with her to the edge of the lot.

“Regina’s Peak.” They stood overlooking the city, white lights mixed with blues and reds that twinkled up at them from an overhang of rock miles above the bustle of downtown Narin. Large columns of cement towered around them, some connected at the tops like forgotten highway overpasses, the smooth rockface worn from years of exposure to the elements, the sides peppered with graffiti. There were places where more recent tags dripped vibrantly over layers of dulled designs, the younger generations of kids painting over the past with the birth of each warm season. The trees around the opening from the road dampened the echoes of cars and choppers in the distance. Tora felt Poppy’s fingers around his palm as she led him to the edge where the clearing dropped off sharply, an old guardrail the only barrier between the place where they stood, the length of Poppy’s arm pressed against his, and the sheer cliff face.

Tora looked down at her—Poppy was gazing out at the vast expanse of sky, a mix of midnight blues, indigos, and violets swirled together as the gentle wind carried clouds over their heads. She swallowed, pulling her lips together as she peered down at the city stretched wide beneath them. He could see the wonder shining in her eyes and, knowing he didn’t need to ask but wanting to hear her say it anyway, Tora murmured, “ya like it?”

He watched as his words caught up to her, her head beginning to nod slowly as her mouth opened on a soft smile. “Tora, it’s beautiful.”

He could feel his heart swell in his chest, pressing up toward his throat as he turned his gaze away from Poppy and back out to the city lights.

“It’s like a little galaxy,” she breathed, looking at the city lights, “a whole world down there, but it’s so small from up here.”

They stood pressed lightly together for a time, Tora lost track of the minutes as they watched Narin breathe beneath them. Finally, he felt her fingers twitch around his palm and her stomach growled low. _Pfft, hungry little hamster._ “Come on,” he said, tugging her gently so she would follow him back to the car. He’d parked a couple paces from the edge, beneath the place where a couple of the cement overhangs had cracked, giving way to the deep sky above. Tora turned and placed his hands around Poppy’s waist, enjoying the feel of her soft body under his palms, and he picked her up as she let out a soft squeak, gingerly setting her down on the roof of the car before he put a foot on the hood, climbing up to sit beside her. He reached for the takeout back and opened the boxes of maki between them, offering her one of the sets of chopsticks. Poppy shook her head softly, her eyes on the food as she dipped into one of the containers, pulling out a piece that she offered to him.

“Thank you for dinner,” she said as she extended her hand to him, her fingers lightly balancing the dark strip of seaweed. Tora clasped a hand around her wrist, drawing her hand close to his mouth before he carefully took the roll between his teeth, his lips skimming her fingers again as he pulled the piece onto his tongue. He felt a shiver run up her arm from the place where he held her as she let out a soft sigh. “Tora,” she breathed, her eyes watching as he chewed, swallowed.

“Yeah, Bobby.”

He waited as she seemed to choose her words carefully, turning them over in her head before she said, “if you don’t stop that, we’re never going to finish all this food.”

He smirked, “that a promise?” She narrowed her eyes as her stomach growled again. He laughed then, what a woman, his Bobby. “Sure, sweetheart. Let’s eat.” He loosened his hold on her arm until her hand fell away, immediately dipping back into one of the boxes to grab a piece for herself. They ate in silence, watching each other. Every so often Poppy would purposely reach for the same piece that Tora had made to grab, and every time he’d smirk, sliding his fingers over to pick a different piece instead, peeking up to catch the smile that she’d fail to repress.

When they were finished, he tucked the boxes in on themselves, folding them into the bag and tossing it onto the ground beside the car before he reclined back on the roof, resting the back of his head against the palms of his hands, legs hanging down over the windshield, feet planted on the hood. He motioned for her to lay back next to him and smiled as she nestled her head on his bicep, the length of her body lightly resting against his. He forced himself to keep his eyes up, knowing if he looked down at her lying there beside him, he wouldn’t be able to stop himself from rolling on top of her, pulling her into his arms— _keep it in ya pants, ya greedy bastard_ , he told himself. He didn’t want to find out how little self-control he actually had around her, at least not here. On the roof of his fuckin’ car. At the thought, though, he felt his jeans tighten imperceptibly. _Not here, not here, not here—_

“So how d’you know this place?”

He smiled to himself, peering up past the concrete overhang to the sky above. A cloud moved revealing stars—some he noticed brighter than others—mapped above them. He hadn’t really noticed the sky before last week. He’d always been so focused on the present, living moment to moment, the future never guaranteed with a life in the clan, but he’d found himself looking up at nights now, searching for a glimpse of movement. _Ya sucker_. “Used to come here as a kid,” he said.

“Oh? A young thug?” she laughed, gesturing across her chest to a column whose graffiti was more faded than fresh, “you ever do those?”

He smirked, “what if I told ya I was a perfect kid, straight-As and shit.” He smirked, “would ya buy it?”

She thought for a second and he felt her turn her head against his bicep to look at him, “maybe.” He narrowed his eyes at the sky, waiting for the punch, “but then I’d have to return it.”

His laugh shook the car beneath them, “shit, Bobby…” he trailed off. Tora swallowed. Was he really gonna share this? Before he could stop himself, the words fell from his mouth, hanging in the air above them, on full display for Poppy. “Man who raised me. Joe.” He swallowed harshly, _shit, maybe he shoulda grabbed that tea from Alice_. “Used to take me here.” Tora clenched his jaw, he could feel her eyes on him, she hadn’t moved her head away. He felt a prick at the outer corner of his eye, _shit_. A moment passed between them and Tora listened to the rustle of the trees around the clearing as a breeze blew up and over the cliff. He felt her thumb brush against his cheek, catching the tear that had escaped from him. _No way ya can look at her now, ya dumb fuck. What, ya gonna cry on her shoulder?_ He tracked the lights of a plane as it soared slow between the empty space of the split overhang, willing the fuckin’ thing to take his stupid tears with it, far from this place.

“I lost my dad, too.”

He swallowed, not daring to look over at her. He felt her turn her head up to the sky, and only then did he peer at her out of the corner of his eye. “It’s been six years, but it still hurts, you know?”

Tora grunted what he hoped sounded like an affirmation. He _did_ know, just didn’t trust his voice right now.

“I’ll never forget the memories I have of him, and I think about him all the time, you know. Wonder…” she paused, taking a breath. Tora waited, watching as another cloud passed above them. Her voice was so steady, how could someone so tiny be so strong? “Wonder what he’d think of where I’m at in my life now. Felt guilty for a while after he died—he dreamed big for me my whole life and I didn’t really—” She cut herself off and he could feel her shaking her head softly against his arm, the bump of her braid acting like a fulcrum. Another breath. Another. The moment stretched, but Tora waited. “Well, I’m not sure if I ever made him proud while he was still here. I’m trying to do something meaningful with my life now, you know—I know that’s all he wanted.” She paused again and Tora considered turning to look at her. He swallowed, _fuck,_ how had the night taken this turn? Were they both gonna end up in tears? “But I realized a little while ago when I graduated college—he would have been proud. He would.” Tora felt her nod against his bicep almost like she was still trying to convince herself of her own words. “The city’s so different from Moonbright. I feel so small, but I know he’s out there. Somewhere out there watching me.”

Tora’s chest had tightened, his breath caught in his lungs at her words. _Moonbright._ His heart thumped. _The city’s so different from Moonbright_. He pulled his tongue from the roof of his mouth, it felt so dry all of a sudden, heavy against the back of his throat as he tried to swallow. _I miss having a garden_ , she’d said, _Moonbright_. He tried to swallow again, feeling every muscle in his throat work. _It’s just not the same,_ the lights of her apartment, their soft warm glow. _Different from Moonbright._ He thought back to the way she’d run her fingers over the plants in her apartment, _you have to give them_ _love, Tora_. Her fingers soft in welcome over the tops of the poppies as soon as she’d seen them in his arms, _all living things need love_. Her hand in his hair, _love, Tora_ , tucking it gently behind his ear on the steps in the city, _I tell them I care about them_. _Like this_ , she’d said. Her arm against his thigh at the bar, back pressed to his chest, _like this_. Her fingers trailing his jaw, _you’re getting mad again, aren’t you_. Her hand on his neck as she healed him, _like this,_ fingers wiping the blood, _like this_. Her arms tight around his waist, _like this._

He turned his head to look at her, to really look at her. Her brown hair, wide brown eyes aimed at the sky—there was so little to go off of in his memory. _She had a fuckin’ strawberry tattoo_ , he reminded himself. _A fuckin’ strawberry_. _Was it possible?_

She turned to look at him, eyes widening further at whatever she saw on his face, in his eyes. “Tora?” Poppy reached a hand over to cup his jaw. He couldn’t have stopped himself even if he’d wanted to. Tora brought his right hand up from behind his head, sliding his fingers around the back of her neck, index finger pressed against the back of her skull as he rolled against her body, bringing her lips to crush against his own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’ve started posting some one-shots to accompany this fic - the first and third ones give a little more backstory on strawberry girl, though not necessary to understand Chasing Poppies. 
> 
> Ch. 12: oh ho ho, date night is not over yet, folks—buckle up!


	12. Like that

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Date night continues and Tora remembers his past.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for that slight cliffhanger last update—wasn’t how I’d intended to end that chapter, but after reading over the last couple paragraphs it just felt right. 
> 
> Here’s a lil somethin somethin though 🥵
> 
> As always, characters belong to the real MVP Lilydusk, brilliant creator of Midnight Poppy Land. Support her on Patreon! https://www.patreon.com/lilydusk

**Chapter 12**

She turned to look at him, eyes widening further at whatever she saw on his face, in his eyes. “Tora?” Poppy reached a hand over to cup his jaw. He couldn’t have stopped himself even if he’d wanted to. Tora brought his right hand up from behind his head, sliding his fingers around the back of her neck, index finger pressed against the back of her skull as he rolled against her body, bringing her lips to crush against his own.

He was desperate, a man lost in a desert. How long had he been waiting for this feeling? Was this how normal people felt, people not tied to crime for life? He inhaled hard through his nose as he drew his tongue against her lips, hand gripping the back of her neck, and she opened to him. Tora knew he should be gentler, it was taking all his self-restraint, the little sense of self he had left not to completely crush her against the car. But Poppy responded in kind. The fingers she had laid along his jaw tightened on his skin, palm cupping his cheek as she turned her body more fully toward his. He felt her bring her other hand up between their torsos, her fingers searching for the collar of his shirt before she fisted it roughly.

He groaned then, unable to contain his desire for this woman. His fuckin’ Bobby. His. He knew he had no right to think that, but in this moment, as she pressed against him with a hunger matched only by his own, _fuck._ He couldn’t help it. How had he managed to end up here? The idea that, on top of everything he’d come to know about Poppylan, she might be the girl from all those years ago, the girl who’d first shown him there was another way, was almost too much for Tora. He could feel the tears, wet against his lashes as he squeezed his eyes shut harder, willing them not to fall. Not to ruin this moment, his tongue finally finding hers, a dance of their own making as she pulled him to her. He pressed down, cradling her head to him firmly like the precious thing that she was, exploring further into the recesses of her mouth. He turned, bracing her neck with his hand to keep her from getting hurt as he moved his arm out from under her head, drawing it down her side to wrap around through the space between her soft body and the smooth roof of the car where her back arched up into him. His palm spread flat against the small of her back as his torso pressed more firmly up the length of her body, his knee coming to rest between her thighs, pinning the thin fabric of her dress to the roof of his car.

Her face was so warm against his, soft against the planes of his nose, his cheeks. All he could hear was the rustle of leaves on the trees that overlooked the clearing mingling with the sounds of their inhales, desperate and gasping, open-mouthed against each other’s lips. He felt her hands run up the sides of his face, her fingers finding the brim of his hat as she pushed it up and off his head. Somewhere in the back of his mind, Tora remembered the curl of hair he hadn’t wanted her to see earlier that night. How fuckin’ stupid, how utterly fuckin’ insignificant. How had he not realized Poppy wouldn’t—couldn’t possibly—give a shit about something like that. Wouldn’t reject him for his appearance at all. She’d wiped away his blood, his fuckin’ tear, and she was still kissing him back, choosing to press her body up against his, meeting his every movement. She ran her fingers through his hair, her nails on his scalp electrifying, setting his nerves alight as she twirled some of his roots and tugged lightly. Before he could stop himself, Tora moaned into her mouth. His pants had grown uncomfortably tight—every move of her body against his sent heat to his core, until his cock was rubbing against the inside of his jeans, pressed up tight to his hip.

Tora withdrew his palm from the small of Poppy’s back, letting his fingers dance up the side of her body, skimming the underside of one of her tits with his thumb before planting his hand against the roof of the car beside her head. He heard the sound of metal warping and felt his hand collapse into a shallow dent. Under any other circumstance, he would have been furious, but Tora only spared the roof of his car a moment’s thought before returning to Poppy. _Fuck the stupid fuckin’ car_. He’d buy a new one. He’d buy a new one a thousand times over if he got to dent each one in this way with this woman. He pulled his lips from hers, listening to the sound of her gasp as he trailed hot, open-mouthed kisses up her jaw to her ear, nipping her softly before moving down to her neck.

“To-ra,” she breathed, a slight pause between the two syllables of his name, and his cock jumped in his jeans, desperate for her touch, her hands, her mouth on him—whatever she wanted, he would give to her. And sweet fuck, he loved hearing his name on her lips. “Tora,” she said again, a little less drawn out—he could change that. He lowered his head trailing his tongue hot down her throat as she leaned her head back against the car, arching against his abdomen as he felt the soft swell of her belly moving against him. He placed his mouth over her collarbone, sucking gently, his tongue swiping along the underside. And then he heard it: Poppy let out a low moan that ended with his name drawn out across her lips. He breathed hard against her chest, could feel the flush of her skin as she tangled her fingers in his hair, moving them toward the crown of his head and pulling lightly. Tora knew, if he could stay in this moment forever, he would. Her skin tasted sweet, maybe it was the soap she used or maybe it was just her natural flavor. _Sweet fuck, her flavor_ , he wondered what she tasted like beneath her clothes, he could feel her rocking then, slowly against his knee between her legs.

“Bobby,” he murmured against her skin, tonguing the seam of her dress where it met her tits before kissing her chest with an open mouth, his tongue hot and wet against her body where it swelled against the top of the fabric. He felt and then heard her breath hitch as he sucked the soft flesh of her tit between his teeth before kissing away the sting. “Fuck, Bobby,” he whispered, “ya incredible.” She tugged on his hair, more persistent than before, and Tora looked up at her. _Oh no_. Her eyes were glassy, unshed tears hanging onto her lower lashes. _This is all ya fault, ya dumb fuck. Ya pushed too fast. Givin’ her a hickey—the fuck were ya thinkin’._ “Shit, sweetheart,” he moved back up her body until his forehead rested against hers. “Ya okay? Did I hurt ya?” _Shit, please don’t be hurt._ He brought his hand up from the car, transferring his weight to the forearm of his hand that still cradled her head, and brushed a thumb along the pink mark he’d left on her chest. _Fuck_.

“Oh my—Tora,” she looked at him with wide eyes and he watched as a tear ran down the side of her face, felt as it met his palm at the base of her neck, dampening the hair against his hand. He swallowed hard, brows drawing together as he rubbed a thumb against the wet spot. _Ya a real fuckin’ monster_. He moved to sit up, he was practically crushing her, and she clearly needed space, but Poppy suddenly slipped her hands from his hair, grabbing the back of his neck as she pulled him back to her mouth. Her lips were desperate against his, and he could hear as she began to cry in earnest.

“Poppy,” he pulled back from her lips, drawing a hand up to the side of her face and wiping the tears that had spilled from her other eye. “Shit, Poppylan, I’m s—.”

“No, Tora,” she breathed, then again much more firmly as she met his eyes, “Tora, it’s not—you didn’t—” she broke off, but she held his gaze. He searched her eyes, holding back the feeling of relief that’d threatened to wash over him. He needed to know, to be absolutely fuckin’ sure, that she meant it. She bit her bottom lip, her gaze flicking from his eyes to his forehead down to his chin and then back around, taking in his expression as he waited for her to find the words she was searching for. After a moment she swallowed, “can we sit up?”

Tora gently removed his hand from behind her head as she lifted her neck, pushing himself up and away from her body. He planted a foot back on the hood of the car and hopped down lightly, picking up his hat and running a hand through his hair before putting it back on his head. He walked around the other side of the car, extending his hands to help her down. She grabbed his palms and looked up at him, eyes circling his face before she pressed against his hands, hopping down in the space between the passenger side door and his body. She tightened her hands in his and led him backwards away from the car to the edge of the cliff where she finally released one of his hands, turning to face the guardrail. She pressed the length of her arm against his, resting her head against the dip where his deltoid met his bicep. He wanted to put his arm around her, draw her against his chest, hold her tight to him like he had the night they’d last looked out at the night sky together, but he’d wait for her to make that move, he decided. If it wasn’t his kiss that’d upset her…he swallowed. What’d she been thinking about that’d made her cry? It’d seemed like she was enjoying it…

“It’s hard,” she said softly. Tora could feel his brows pull further together. He looked out over the city—in the time they’d been here, the sky had darkened to a blue-black. Clouds swirled together like ink splotches against a dark canvas. Only a handful of the brightest stars peeked through, glinting at them from so many miles above. He took a deep breath as he waited for Poppy to collect her thoughts—could smell rain on the breeze, which had picked up slightly. Almost unnoticeable. The leaves rustled and Tora listened to the faint sound of crickets from the dark tree line behind them. He glanced down at Poppy, whose jaw was rigid, her brow set in a firm line, closer to her eyes than usual.

“What’s hard, Poppy?”

“Mmm,” she hummed, seeming to come back to herself out from whatever thoughts she’d fallen into in the time they’d been standing together, her head still leaning against his arm, her palm warm in his. She laced her fingers through his as she said, “I don’t understand.” She shook her head against him, still looking out over the city, the lights from cars along the highways shimmering. “What you see…I don’t know what you see in me.” He felt his face fall slack as he listened to her, “To… _want_ me,” she emphasized the word _want_ and Tora felt a pull from his core as his breath stuttered on an exhale. “Like that,” she finished softly.

He shook his head. What the hell was she talkin’ about? How could he _not_ want her. Like that. And, fuck, _like that_ was only part of it. Even if the feeling wasn’t mutual, she was still his fuckin’ Bobby. “Poppylan,” he turned to face her, reaching up to hold her chin with his thumb, index finger curling under to lift her face so he could see her. She had her eyes cast down somewhere on the ground to his right and he waited until she finally brought herself to look at him. “I’ve never lied to ya.” He shook his head, taking in the way her mouth parted softly. _Fuck, how did she still not know?_ “Dunno what fucker put it in ya head that ya…” he searched for the words he’d never imagined he’d need to say to her, “…that ya not _wanted_ , or that ya not wanted _like that_ , but it’s a load of fuckin’ bullshit.” He opened his hand against her jaw, thumb tracing her cheek as he watched her carefully, “pinky.”

He watched her eyes reflect disbelief back at him—he’d have to work on that, keep telling her, showing her until she believed him, but at his last word, she smiled softly. Reading the break in her expression and the way her chest rose on a deep inhale, Tora added, “I mean, shit, sweetheart,” he nodded back toward the car, “never done that before.” He huffed a laugh, smirking, “dented my fuckin’ roof I want ya so bad.” He watched as a blush spread from her cheeks down her neck, her mouth parting further so he could see her tongue pressed up against the tips of her bottom teeth. _There she is_.

He considered for a moment—he’d already shared with this woman more than he’d ever fuckin’ intended to. And shit, the last time he’d shared this place with anyone…he didn’t know if he could swallow that kind of disappointment again, especially from her. And he hadn’t even been able to identify a fuckin’ _reason_ he’d been so upset the last time. It was one thing for the little shits not to understand, but Bobby…he remembered the way she’d looked out in awe through his windshield. The way she pulled herself from the car before he’d had a chance to walk around and open her door which she’d been letting him do all night. Her open wonder with this place, this peak so close to the clouds it fogged over in the mornings so that when Tora would peer off the side, the city just disappeared. Just him, alone and away from everything that lay below, from who he was on the streets of Narin. He swallowed, setting his jaw as he dropped his hand from her face and tugging her gently toward the guardrail, “come on.”

He walked them to a spot near the rusted end where the yellow and black tape had clearly begun peeling many years ago. Crouching down, he released her hand, pulling out his phone and thumbing the flashlight button before shining it against the metal. He ducked his head, straining to see the markings on the metal before he found what he was looking for. “C’mere, Bobby,” he waved for her to crouch close next to him and pointed his finger at the dirty surface.

“Tora, what am I looking at?” she squinted at the worn metal. Tora didn’t need to sweep his light down the thing to know the entire length of the rail was covered in colorful tags—some faded more than others, and all covered in a thin coat of grime. He’d been a teenager the last time he’d crouched in this spot, the other young aspiring clan members shoving at each other as they tussled for who would get to make their mark on the piece of metal after their Big Bro. He frowned slightly at the memory—none of them had really reacted the way he’d hoped, the way he’d understood after Joe had first taken him here.

“There,” he said, pointing closer at the angular tag in black ink: Ares Street Kingz. He listened as Poppy read the name, exaggerating the buzzing sound at the end of the phrase.

“Still don’t know what it is,” she said, glancing over at him, one brow raised.

“Bobby, gotta use ya eyes,” he said, pointing just below the nickname to a cloud of first names beneath it—in the middle of them all, his own handwriting, long since faded to a shadow of what it’d been.

Poppy leaned closer, her thigh brushing against his knee as she read aloud, “Quincey B., Goliath, Ronzo…” he heard as she sucked in a breath before murmuring his name, her finger reaching out halfway to the rail before stilling in the air between them. “You and your friends,” she said, less a question than a statement. _Friends?_ Had they been his friends? He’d never really considered the little shits who’d followed him around like that. Was that why he’d been disappointed as they’d dicked around, barely sparing a glance to the city below as they’d tried and failed to climb the concrete like fuckin’ kids? They _had_ been kids. “And…Ronzo?” She seemed to think for a moment, “that’s what you called the bartender at Chevy’s, right? Gyu?”

Tora could’ve rolled his eyes. Of fuckin’ course. He still needed to find out how the fuck Ronzo knew his Bobby and why the hell he’d lied. “Yeah, ran with the same crew,” he said. Not exactly descriptive, but more or less accurate. “All three of ‘em. Him, Quince, and Goliath,” he said, only slightly hesitating before the last name, nodding toward their scribbles crowded around his own, “little fuckin’ shits. Like kid brothers, ya know.” Even their signatures here on the metal were nearly on top of his. He’d tried so hard to discourage them from the clan—Quince didn’t have a choice, but Ronzo and Goliath…at least _one_ of them had listened. Kinda. He shook his head, fuckin’ Ronzo—at least he wasn’t in as deep as he could’ve been.

“Hmm,” Poppy hummed beside him and when he turned to look at her, his phone’s flashlight still held up to the metal, she was looking at him. “You love them,” she said, the finality in her voice leaving no room for an alternative.

He felt his eyebrows gravitate slowly toward his hairline. “Nah, sweetheart.” She didn’t blink as she held his gaze. _Shit, this woman_ …he thought back to her fingers, gentle over the leaves of her plants. If love meant caring, had he… _loved_ them? He’d have to think more about it—would never admit it to those dumb fucks though. “Maybe,” he said after a while.

She smiled softly, then turned back to the rail. “Looks real old, how long ago?”

_Pfft_ , “dunno, ten?”

She clapped a hand to her mouth and Tora rolled his eyes, already knowing she was gonna say some feisty shit, “ _years_?” she mouthed at him. “How old _are_ you?” Yup, feisty as shit.

“Twenty-fi—six.”

She cocked an eyebrow, “couldn’t make up your mind?”

He laughed, “was recent, still not used to it, Bobby.”

“Hmm,” she hummed as she stood up, “me too.” She held out a hand to him.

“Bobby, ya couldn’t lift me even if ya tried.”

She cocked her head, narrowing her eyes, her hand still outstretched like a dare until he finally rolled his eyes, placing his palm against her. As he stood, she groaned, staggering backwards as she pretended to use all her strength to pull him up from his crouched position.

He snorted, “shit, Bob. Ya stronger than me.” Tora placed a hand at the small of her back, leading her over to the car where he ducked down quickly to grab the plastic takeout bag from next to the front tire. He opened the passenger door for her and watched as she tucked in her dress before he closed her in on a sigh. _What a fuckin’ night_. He readjusted his hat and ran a hand quickly over the dent on the top of the car as he opened the driver’s side door. _Shit_ , he’d just had it detailed, maybe he could pop it out from the inside. He smirked to himself lightly. It’d been fuckin’ worth it, even with all the cryin’. _Why’d ya gotta fuckin’ cry? Ya fuckin’ weak._ He climbed into the driver’s seat and tossed the bag into the backseat before putting the car in gear. He watched her from the corner of his eye as he turned them toward the road—she kept her face angled toward the edge of the cliff, the sky that had darkened to an almost-black as the clouds rolled in more insistently now.

_Moonbright_. Shit, it couldn’t be her. What were the odds? Next to nothing, he assumed. Goliath could probably tell him, _pfft_. It’d been a while since he’d thought back to that day, since he’d tried to remember the specific details from when he’d met the girl. He’d been a teenager, passing by the little town on a pick-up run with the little shits when they’d insisted on stopping for food and he’d agreed only cause they were low on gas.

*

“Ronzo, sit the fuck down,” Tora growled as the boy beside him in the passenger seat of the van quickly stood up, hanging his head out the window as they approached the gas station. Little shits were gonna be the death of him, why the fuck had he let them come? _Fuckin’ Quincey_ , that’s why. He rolled his eyes. Little shit pulled his weight as the boss’s son any chance he could get, and Tora wasn’t lookin’ to get another fuckin’ beatdown from Vincent—his back was still pretty fucked up from the other week when Martin’d handed the boss a bat. Normally, he tended to heal pretty quick, but somethin’ about that fuckin’ blow just wasn’t going away. He leaned his neck to his shoulder as he pulled up along the pumps—fuck, he hadn’t been able to crack his neck since the injury and the tension radiated down his core and up to his skull.

“Ya fucks got ten minutes—that’s it,” he said, glancing at the boys in the back. “And no sittin’ behind the wheel,” he glared at Ronzo next to him. “If I fuckin’ see ya—”

“Aye aye, Big Bro,” the boy grinned and quickly flew out the door, right on the heels of Goliath and Quincey who he could hear arguing about which snacks to buy with the twenty that Tora had given them.

“Stupid fucks,” he muttered, carefully lowering himself from the vehicle. Shit, it’d been so much harder getting in and out of the van since Vince had so brutally fucked up his back. He hoped it healed fuckin’ soon. It was dangerous to be injured for so long—he was strong, but shit, he knew his reaction time had slowed, and throwing punches now jolted pain the length of his spine. Tora slammed the door, heading around the hood of the van and toward the door of the gas station, passing a little girl biking circles around the lot.

“Forty on pump two,” he grunted to the clerk, avoiding eye contact. He knew his jaw was still bruised and really wasn’t in the fuckin’ mood to see the fear in the grown man’s eyes. He couldn’t help his fuckin’ face. _Fuck ya fuckin’ face._

Tora walked back out to the van, stopping suddenly as the girl on the bike cut in front of him, “hey, watch where the fuck ya goin’,” he shouted after her.

“Sorry, mister!” she called back over her shoulder.

Fuck, was there nowhere he could go to escape these little shits? Even here in the middle of bumfuck, nowhere…Tora clenched his jaw as he shoved the nozzle into the gas tank, turning to watch the numbers tick up. He rolled his neck, this had to be the slowest damn pump he’d ever used, and he still had the dinner shift at Alice’s later tonight. _Shit_.

Just then he heard a loud crash from around the hood of the car. _These motherfuckers_ , he thought, pushing off the side of the van and stalking around to see which little shit had done what this time. His felt the scowl slip from his face as he pulled his hands from his pockets, quickly jogging across the lot to where the little girl lay sprawled on the pavement a few paces from a jagged pothole. “Hey, the fuck, ya okay?”

He crouched down and skimmed his fingers against the crook of her elbow as she pushed herself up into a seated position. There were tears in her wide brown eyes, but they hadn’t spilled over to her cheeks. Still sitting on the ground, she pulled her knees up so her feet were planted against the ground, peering intently at the red patches of skin where the gravel had scraped her open. “Ah, shit. I might have some bandages,” he said before realizing he’d taken the first aid kit from the van for the compresses and never returned it. _Stupid motherfucker_.

“Oh, it’s okay,” she said, shaking her head, poking a finger at the larger scrape and lightly brushing out some of the dirt. Tora frowned. It looked like her knees had already been scabbed over from a previous injury before being cut open just then.

“Ya fall a lot,” he asked, standing and reaching a hand down to help her up.

“Something like that,” she said as she took his palm with both hands.

She must be real young, he thought. The girl stood a couple feet shorter than him. “Shit,” he said, grabbing the burner from his back pocket, “ya got a mom and dad ya can call?”

The girl looked down at his phone, her head tilted to the side, before she shook her head. Turning to point down the side street beside the corner gas station, “it’s okay, I’m just down there.” He frowned. Tora was a complete stranger to her. Did she really not know givin’ out her address could be dangerous? He watched as she moved to pick up the white bicycle from behind her—the frame was all scuffed up like she made a habit of falling. He looked at her helmet—a dirty white and covered in peeling stickers of… _strawberries?_

The girl wheezed as she made to pick up the bike and he heard her mutter, “shoot.” _Ah, shit_. He ran a hand through his hair, glancing at the window of the gas station where he could see the boys in the back aisle. Goliath had Quincey in a headlock and Ronzo was poking his side with a shit-eating grin. Tora rolled his eyes, they’d be fine.

“Here, lemme,” he said, moving to pick up the bike for her. “How far down are ya?” he nodded his head toward the street where she’d pointed and watched as she smiled.

“Not that far.”

Tora glanced back at the pump, it was probably still going, the fuckin’ thing was so damn slow. He considered just driving her, but fuck that’d be creepy, askin’ this little girl into his white van. Plus then she’d meet the boys—no way in fuck was he leaving them behind. He shook his head at the thought. The girl limped forward a couple steps away from him as she headed toward the street. “Come on,” she waved. _Shit_ , was he really doin’ this? He rolled his neck to the sky, a cloudless pale blue. He was really fuckin’ doin’ this. _Shit_. Tora strode across the lot, quickly catching up to the girl who was still limping. He was about to extend his arm toward her, but thought better of it as his back twinged. Best to play it safe, he still had the drive back and a long night ahead.

“Hey, wait,” he said to her, but the girl kept moving forward. He rolled his eyes, why’d kids never fuckin’ listen? “Jesus, fuck. I said hold up,” he put a hand on her shoulder as she turned around. “Just, ya gonna hurt yaself more. Get on,” he gestured to the bike seat as he steadied the handlebar with two fists, waiting as she carefully mounted the seat before he moved to grip the end of the bar closest to him. It was covered in some sparkly rubber shit, and Tora resisted the urge to roll his eyes again. He tapped a foot against the frame where two pegs jutted from the sides, “put ya feet up here.”

“You know, I can ride.”

“Really? Coulda fooled me,” he said as she adjusted her feet, and he began walking them down the street.

He heard her huff from beside him. “I was just practicing my tricks,” she said, and Tora snorted.

“Kid, those weren’t tricks. Ya were just ridin’ in a circle.”

“You didn’t see it!” she insisted. “I did a wheelie earlier.”

Tora laughed, but the sound almost immediately died in his throat as pain shot up his spine from the center of his back. _Fuck_. “Don’t believe ya, kid.”

He looked down to see her roll her eyes. “I’ve never seen you around here,” she said.

“Yeah? And ya know everyone here?”

“Pretty much, it’s Moonbright.” Tora nodded, that checked out. It was a real small fuckin’ town. “So, where are you from?”

He frowned, glancing at her from the corner of his eye. “The city.” He watched as her eyes widened.

“Narin?” he could hear the excitement in her voice as he grunted. “What’s it like? Dad says there’re a lot of people and almost no trees. What do you climb if there aren’t any trees?”

He looked down at her in alarm, holy shit, she was a talker. “Ya always this nosy?”

She thought for a second, seemed to really weigh his question. “Yeah, I think so.”

_Pfft, pfft_. He looked around the street, she was right—there were so many fuckin’ trees. Everything was green, no trash on the road. It was the opposite of the city—all he could hear was the crunch of the bike tires along the pavement, loose rocks kicking up as they walked, and the sound of… _birds?_ Shit, when was the last time he’d heard birds? “Hey, we gettin’ close?”

“Yeah, it’s the next one,” she said, lifting a hand from the bar to point at a little two-story house painted yellow. The whole front yard of the house was covered in plants, an explosion of vegetation that stood out from the rest of the lawns on the street. When they’d reached the short fence that lined the garden, Tora could make out a thatch of little white flowers that lined the driveway leading up to the house.

“Kay,” he said as she climbed off the bike, taking the handlebar from him, “careful doin’ ya wheelies, kid. And make sure to wash those out,” he nodded toward her knees as she unstrapped her helmet, her brown hair stuck in sweaty patches to her face, a faint line of dirt against her forehead where the helmet had pressed against her skin. “Otherwise, they’ll get infected.” He turned to head back down the street, the pump was hopefully done by now, he thought, and fuckin’ Ronzo better not be in his seat.

“Hey, wait!” she shouted to him before running toward her house, a limp every couple of steps.

Tora frowned looking up and down the street. This was the type of place where he _really_ stuck out, he was sure if he stood around too long, someone’d call the cops on the thug with the fucked-up jaw lurkin’ outside. The door banged back open and she ran down the driveway, handing him a juicebox. _The fuck?_ Tora didn’t drink fuckin’ juice. Maybe he’d give it to one of the little shits. Quincey’d probably like it. “Um, thanks,” he said turning it over in his hands.

“It’s strawberry—only flavor we had but it’s still really good,” she said, looking at him expectantly. “Try it.” She stared at him and he stared back. Fuck, she was stubborn. “You’ll like it, promise,” she said, holding a pinky finger out to him. He frowned at it. _The fuck was she doin’?_ She took in his frown, “it’s a pinky promise,” she said, like it was obvious what the fuck that meant.

“Never heard of it,” he said. “The hell does a pinky have to do with it?”

The girl shrugged, her arm still extended toward him. “I don’t know, but it’s the most serious promise you can make,” she said. “Can’t go back on it.” She looked at him, then, when he didn’t move, insisted, “come on.” Tora raised his pinky to her, and she curled her finger around his. “You’ll like it.”

He huffed, taking his hand back and tearing off the little straw at the back of the box before sticking it through the foil. Taking a sip, he had to admit it was good—not too sweet like a lot of other sugary drinks. A little tart. “S’good,” he nodded once. She beamed up at him and he reached down to ruffle her hair, quickly pulling his hand away as he realized just how sweaty she was.

“Hey, you’re a good egg,” she said just as he was turning to leave, wiping his hand on his pants. He paused, not looking back. “My dad calls good people good eggs. You’re a good egg.”

_Pfft_. _A good egg, huh?_ No he fuckin’ wasn’t. “See ya ‘round, kid.”

*

But Tora hadn’t been able to stop thinking about that for the last ten years. She hadn’t known him from fuck all and she’d brought him to her house, had trusted him to push her down the street, had fuckin’ _smiled_ at him, had acted like…like he wasn’t the fuckin’ monster that Vincent’d been grooming him to be. None of the awe that the other little shits held for his capacity for violence. _A good egg, pfft._ Tora glanced over at Bobby in the passenger seat. There was absolutely no fuckin’ way his hamster was strawberry girl. He shook his head. Shit like that only happened in the movies. And even then, it always ended badly—he’d spent enough nights listening to the Quincess sob on the couch beside him as they watched films about people fallin’ in love and then offin’ themselves, like that fuckin’ Romeo and Juliet shit that he was trying to set in his fuckin’ space novel. Tora rolled his eyes, a soft _tch_ escaping his lips.

“So did your wish come true?” Poppy’s voice cut through the silence of the car as they sped down the highway back to the heart of the city.

He frowned, “what, ya see a satellite, Bobby?”

“ _Pfft, pfft,_ no,” she said. He could practically hear her roll her eyes and he smirked.

“Good, can’t have a hamster hoardin’ all the wishes.”

She snorted, clapping both of her hands to her mouth. “Tora.” He couldn’t stop the laugh that rang out from deep between his ribs.

“Shit, Bobby, ya make it too easy.” He could feel her half-hearted glare on the side of his face, so he glanced over at her, flipping off his high beams as a car passed them in the opposite direction. He sighed, _so fuckin’ stubborn_ , “Kay, I’ll bite. What wish ya talkin’ about, Bobby?”

She smiled at him, “for your birthday.”

He frowned. “Told ya, already passed.”

“Yeah,” she drew out the word on an exhaled before huffing the rest, “but did it come true?”

Tora swallowed, his brow furrowing further into the bridge of his nose. “Dunno.” He cleared his throat, trying to push what Quincey had told him from his mind. “Never done the candles,” he finally said, at least it was the truth. He _hadn’t_ made a wish on the damn sparkly candles Quince had stuck in the cake. And before last year, he’d never had a fuckin’ _cake_ let alone a cake with goddamned candles.

He could feel her eyes on him, and Tora shifted his hand to flick on the high beams again. The trees along the side of the road seemed to pop up like shadows as they passed by, flickering in his peripherals. Later this week he’d make sure to check out the trees lining the road to her apartment, he decided. Make sure there was no shady shit goin’ on there. He thought back to her building, fuck, it’d be too easy for someone to lurk there, to wait for her—he swallowed hard, knuckles white on the wheel.

He looked down as Poppy’s hand darted out to rest lightly on the top of his hand that gripped the wheel. She skimmed the pads of her fingers along his knuckles and Tora felt the hairs on his arms stand up. _Shit, if she didn’t stop that…_ “Hey, I have an idea,” she said suddenly, drawing her hand back to her lap as his fingers loosened around the wheel. Tora peered up at the sky through the windshield of the car. Shit, it was definitely gonna open up soon. “Hey,” she said again when he didn’t respond, gently tugging at his sleeve that was folded up around his forearm.

“What’s that, sweetheart.”

“Can we stop somewhere?”

He glanced over at her. “Stop somewhere? The fuck ya wanna go?” He shifted his hips, switching the wheel to his other hand and pulled out his phone from his pocket, tapping the screen to show her the time.

“Are you tired?” she asked, was that reluctance in her voice?

Tora looked over at her. Those wide fuckin’ eyes, _shit_. _Ya sucker._ “Nah, sweetheart. Where ya wanna go?”

She hummed for a second as though thinking it over, even though he was sure as shit she knew exactly where she wanted to go. He hoped it was in a safe area—downtown could work. He glanced back up at the sky. Maybe somewhere indoors.

“A grocery store?”

He whipped his head around to look at her quickly before turning back to the road, “ya hungry, Bobby? Can get ya more food, no need to cook.” They’d eaten a lot of sushi, but Tora could admit even he was starting to get hungry again. It’d been hours since he’d first picked her up.

“Something like that.”

“ _Pfft,_ okay, Bobby,” he switched lanes perhaps a little too quickly, deciding on a place he knew would be close to her apartment, it’d be easier to drop her off—maybe she could avoid getting wet in the storm.

He could practically hear her buzzing with excitement as they peeled up into the lot of the grocery store. Tora grabbed his phone from the console, checking the time quickly. “Kay, Bobby, we’re on a mission—only got ten minutes before they close.”

She smiled at him as he came around the side of the car to open her door. “Yes, sir,” she mock saluted, giggling before she continued, “it’ll be quick—I know exactly what we need.” _What we need_ , Tora tilted his head as he locked the car, following a couple steps behind her before quickly closing the distance as they approached the door. She rolled her eyes at him as he opened the door for her, smirking.

“Can never be too careful, Bobby. Hate to end the night in a hospital,” he joked as he felt her pinch his arm lightly as she passed by him.

She grabbed a cart, and turned back to look at him, “wanna push?”

He smirked, taking the handle from her as she ran ahead. The smattering of rain against the roof could be heard over the soft music that played over the sound system. _Fuck,_ just their luck. He watched as she zipped up and down the aisles quickly gathering an assortment of items: a small bag that read _flour_ , another one of sugar, a small bottle labeled _vanilla extract_ , a bottle of… _buttermilk?_ “Bobby, ya buyin’ the whole store?” he asked lightly as she reached deep to the back of a shelf and pulled out something small that she kept closed in her hand. She rolled her eyes and put her hand on the front of the cart, pulling them down the aisle toward the front register where she quickly piled the items for the clerk who glanced at the clock behind him then back to glare at the couple in front of him. _Fuck that,_ Tora thought, settling his face into a hard expression as he glared back at the clerk. He didn’t lift his gaze even as Poppy let out a soft _oh!_ before running off back toward the far wall of the store, returning with another item that Tora didn’t see. The clerk had begun to tremble until Tora finally dug into his back pocket, grabbing his wallet and slowly inserting the end of his card into the terminal. He felt a hand on his face then, Poppy’s fingers along the tension in his jaw until he let his muscles slacken.

“We’re gonna have to move quick, Bobby,” he said, grabbing up the bags as the clerk followed them to the door, quite ready to close for the night.

“Yes, sir,” she said again, and he snorted. Tora unlocked the car through the glass as a curtain of rain poured over the lip of the store. He grimaced, just as Poppy noticed his hesitation, “afraid of getting a little wet, tiger?” she asked as she quickly pushed open the door, sprinting out across the lot. _Shit_ , Tora shouldered his way through the other door, jogging in her wake, his feet landing over the small ripples her feet had made in the sheet of water that already covered much of the pavement.

“Bobby! What are ya doin’?” he shouted over the rain—she had stopped just short of the car, the yellow fabric of her dress clinging to her body, revealing that she was indeed still wearing the black bra and panties from all those hours ago. Tora felt his heart leap up to meet his throat, _sweet fuck._ She threw her head back just as he caught up to her, opening the trunk and tossing the bags in before he turned back to face her, rounding the side of the car. “Bobby?” he squinted at her through the rain as she brought her face down to look at him. The clerk had shut the storefront, plunging them into darkness save for the one orange-lit streetlamp at the edge of the parking lot and the road. Thin blades of water caught the warm light, falling around Poppy, her body a silhouette outlined in gold. _A goddamn angel_.

He watched as she took two steps toward him, her body in slow motion, slicing a path through the rain to get to him as she raised her arms to wrap around his neck. She reached up, and he closed the short distance between them, steadying her with his hands around her waist as she balanced on her tiptoes between his feet. Tora leaned, his eyes locked on hers in the darkness, the water pouring between their faces, as he scooped her up against his chest. And then her mouth was on his, moving slowly, so different from before, less frantic but just as hungry. She pressed harder to him as his hands came up to grip the undersides of her thighs, she was so soft. His Bobby was so fuckin’ soft, so warm under his hands, against his chest. The water seeped out from the fabric of her dress, running in waves down his shirt and plastering the thin material to his torso as she clutched his body to hers. He never wanted this to end, wanted her to swallow him whole, wanted to crawl into this moment and disappear. He opened his mouth against hers until her tongue slipped against his, her hands wrapping around the back of his head, her grip so strong. _How could someone so tiny be so strong_ , he wondered again as she lifted his hat away from his hair slightly, breaking away from his lips on a gasp as she leaned her forehead against his, the bill of his cap directing the streams of water away from their faces.

“Tora,” she breathed just as he said her name. They both laughed, he could feel her shake against his chest. “Home?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Peep rain rooms for what I was going for in that last scene.
> 
> I’ve started posting some one-shots to accompany this fic - the first and third ones gives a little more backstory on strawberry girl, though not necessary to understand Chasing Poppies. 
> 
> Ch. 13: will this night ever end? Tora sure as shit hopes not…


	13. A good egg

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With heavy rain, comes wet clothes. Tora and Poppy continue to enjoy their first date.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, this one is quite fuckin long. What can I say. I got…a little carried away 🥵 I hope you enjoy as we barrel towards act 2 heehee
> 
> It is BEYOND words to say how much your comments mean to me. I took a six-month break from writing after wrapping my masters in poetry as the pandemic surged and this is my first attempt getting back into writing. This community has been so so supportive and it feels incredibly healing to finally be able to put words on paper that I’m happy with again—and turns out, writing fiction is so fuckin freeing. Y’all have a very special place in my heart forever—thank you thank you thank you
> 
> As always, characters belong to the real MVP Lilydusk, brilliant creator of Midnight Poppy Land. Eternal gratitude to you, Lily—truly. What a world you’ve created. Support her on Patreon! https://www.patreon.com/lilydusk
> 
> Credit: last three lines are from the comic.

**Chapter 13**

“Tora,” she breathed just as he said her name. They both laughed, he could feel her shake against his chest. “Home?”

Tora leaned forward and brushed his lips gently against hers. “Sure, Bobby.” He felt her move her legs to slide down his own, and he loosened his hands on her thighs so that she could drop down to the ground. As his hands slid up her body, he could feel water from her dress spilling over the sides of his fingers from the sodden material and, even with the rain like a blur between them, it was impossible not to notice the way that her yellow dress had become practically transparent. His eyes traced the curve of her heavy tits, the hickey now a bright red blotch blooming against her skin as he remembered the way she had tasted, the way she had felt against his lips, his teeth. As the dress clung to her, he could see the way the edges of her black bra lightly dug into her flesh, the dips like small valleys he wanted to run his tongue along. He raked his eyes down the dip at the center of her chest where the fabric of the dress gleamed with water, a slightly darker shade of yellow that dripped rainwater to her skin beneath. The lines of her panties drew his eyes to the dark swath of fabric between her legs—as she turned from him it took every bit of restraint he had not to reach out, not to pull her back against him, the need to feel her body pressed against his almost overwhelming. 

Tora quickly moved around her, swinging open the door to the car. His brow drew down his forehead as he watched her attempt to wring out her dress before climbing in, but the rain had not let up at all. He watched as she twisted her fists in opposite directions, the pour of water released from the fabric indistinguishable from the heavy drops falling all around them. He could see the seat growing dark with water as the rain pummeled the interior, “shit, Bobby, just get in—it’s fine,” he said loudly over the pounding of the rain against the pavement, the roof of the car.

She turned to look at him, squinting and nodded quickly, ducking her head into the car. Tora quickly shut the door, not needing to worry about tucking in her dress—he tried not to notice the way it was plastered high up on her thigh—he could see the entirety of her fake strawberry, and a section of skin above it that he imagined would fit perfectly in his palm. He swallowed thickly as he ran around to his side of the car, nearly laughing when he saw the dent again—a small puddle above his seat. He again noticed how little he gave a fuck about something that would normally send him into a rage. Shit, this woman was incredible. He made to throw open the door, but it wouldn’t budge. Tora leaned down, swiping a palm flat across the window before pressing the side of his hand, his wrist along the glass, the water redirected in a quick stream down his arm before splashing off the rolled cuffs of his shirt. He squinted into the car, pressing the bill of his hat to the liquid surface—the windows were slowly fogging as Poppy laughed at him. Had she…had she just _locked him out?_ Of his own car? In the middle of a fuckin’ storm?

“Oi, Bobby,” he rapped a knuckle on the window. “I’m gettin’ soaked, let me in!” He could barely hear her laughter from the other side of the glass and over the rain as it pelted the roof. Just as he remembered that he still had the key in his pocket, he watched Poppy reach over, the fabric of her dress weighted down with water and falling away from her chest as Tora caught a glimpse of her body down to the soft swell of her stomach. _Sweet fuck_ , he swallowed again—it was all too easy to imagine her crawling up toward him on her hands and knees like this in a much drier setting. She stretched her arm out and thumbed open the lock on his door, quickly retreating back to her seat as he dove into the car, slamming the door behind him.

He turned to her, wide-eyed as he pulled off his hat, running his hands through the hair plastered flat against his scalp and then down his face to swipe the excess water away from his eyes. “Holy shit, Bobby,” he said, finally blinking over at her, “ya fuckin’ brutal.” He turned to look at her and stopped breathing for a couple seconds, he thought maybe he’d forgotten how. She was thoroughly soaked, thick strands of her hair had escaped her braid either from the wind or the kiss they’d shared, maybe a combination of the two. They lay plastered across her forehead and to the sides of her face, one curling down around the bottom of her chin. Soft black smudges had run down her cheeks and outward from where she’d tried to wipe the rain from her own face. Her lips were a deep pink, swollen from where they’d pressed against his own.

Tora tried desperately to keep his eyes glued to her face, but her chest was still heaving from laughter, a smile dancing in her eyes. He glanced down and his mouth ran dry again, _sweet fuck_. In the car without the endless water blurring his vision, without the fog of the glass between them, he could see the peaks of her nipples where the saturated fabric of her dress and bra cooled against her skin. He watched as she glanced down at his lap, her skin flushing a deep pink as he followed the movement of her throat up and then down, her jaw clenching shut around her swallow before her lips parted again. He could feel his cock pressing desperately against the denim plastered to his hips, the fabric of his briefs just as soaked, doing little to nothing to hide his desire for her as she stared down at him. Fuck, he wanted her. Right here. Could he wait until they got back? She hadn’t fuckin’ looked away, which must mean she wanted him as much as he wanted her, right? And she looked cold. Hell, he could warm her up. He shifted his hips slightly and bit back a groan at the friction against the head of his cock. The foil teeth of the condom scraped through the wet interior of his pocket. She met his gaze again then as he sighed, her eyes widening at whatever she saw in his expression.

“Shit, Bobby,” he breathed again, the ghost of smile on his lips.

He ran a hand through his wet hair again, fingers catching on some of the tangled ends— _shit,_ had he lost the tie that’d kept it pulled back under his hat? He shuddered an exhale, closing his eyes momentarily to try to calm himself down. Could feel his heart thumping in his chest at the thought of what might happen once they got back to Poppy’s apartment. _If she invites ya up_. He swallowed, trying to lift his hips as subtly as possible, angled toward his window, as he used one hand to pry open the front pocket of his jeans and the other to dig for his keys. He glanced over at her as he struggled to get his large hand into the tight material, stiff with the weight of the water pressed against his thigh. She was looking down at him again and he felt his core tighten reflexively at the heat in her gaze as she looked back up to him.

“Fuck,” he groaned, tossing his head back against the headrest and arching off the bottom of the seat, heels digging into the floor, one foot pushed all the way back beneath the brake as he redoubled his efforts, fingers choked beneath the material—he needed to get those fuckin’ keys if there was any hope of something happening tonight. If she was willing, there was always the car, but how the fuck was he gonna get his pants down if even his pocket was giving him this much trouble, for fuck’s sake. His wet knuckles screamed in protest as the rough denim seam rubbed them raw against each twist of his wrist. _Goddamned motherfuckin’—_

“Tora,” she said, and he immediately stopped struggling, frozen with his hips in the air, his fingers shoved into his pocket up to his knuckles, the key ring pressed just out of his reach. He looked over at her, petrified that he’d scared her off this time, that she’d want to call a cab from here, take her bags and leave him in the darkness of the parking lot in the rain, a raging boner and unable to reach his fuckin’ keys. He watched as she blushed around the words that fell from her mouth, “do you need help?”

He gulped audibly, _fuck_ , maybe the rain was loud enough that she hadn’t heard.

Her eyes widened somehow even further as she blushed deeper, _holy shit,_ was he imagining things or could he see her flush spreading beneath the fabric of her dress, was that her skin darkening or his mind playing tricks in the low light? “I-I just mean,” she stuttered out, “my hands are s-smaller.”

Tora felt his mouth fall open, his brain short-circuiting around what she was implying. He hadn’t lowered his hips, hadn’t moved an inch, didn’t dare breathe as she slowly leaned forward, her eyes on his face, gauging his reaction. She put a hand on the center console and reached another toward the wrist of the hand that was shoved a third of the way into his pocket. “Is this okay?” she asked quietly. He blinked. Nodded. Poppy glanced down at his hand, then back at his face as though looking for one last confirmation, but Tora couldn’t speak. He made a sound, somewhere between a grunt and a groan before her fingers wrapped around his wrist, gently pulling his hand from his pocket as he felt the blood rush back past his knuckles and into his fingers which ached when he curled them. She moved his hand to rest beside hers on the center console, the outer swell of his palm, a whisper against the edge of her hand. He could hear himself breathing loudly, _so_ _fuckin’ loud_ , did he always breathe this way, nearly gasping for air around his shallow inhales?

Tora watched her as though removed from his own body, hips still thrust in the air, thighs tremoring lightly from planting his feet so punishingly hard against the floor or from her hand approaching his pocket, maybe both. Probably both. He couldn’t tell, didn’t give a shit, just wanted her hand in his fuckin’ pants. She pressed her fingers against the lip of his pocket, dipping slowly between the wet material, her hand warm and firm as she glided down the dip of his hip flexor, up and over his thigh before she finally closed around—Tora’s eyes widened, sucking in his breath quickly as he remembered the condoms. _The fuckin’ condoms_. He pressed back further against the seat, attempting to stretch the leg closest to her out even further as his toes hit the end of the space beneath the wheel, trying hopelessly to push his thigh, the condoms, out of her reach. Hell, he’d cut his own fuckin’ leg off if it meant she wouldn’t find them. He held his breath, wanting to disappear into the leather forever, his face flushing hot as he watched a look of recognition pass over her face, her lips parting as she inhaled suddenly, her eyes flicking to his. Fuck, she was so close to his face, her hand down his pants, fingers wrapped around the keys, the condoms— _fuck,_ he realized stopping himself just in time from groaning in embarrassment, he’d put _two_ of the fuckin’ things in his pocket. Not one. _Two._ How fuckin’ desperate, _goddamn, desperate, horny fuckin’ son of a bitch._

Poppy slowly pulled her hand from his pocket, her pinky hooked around the keyring, and as Tora felt the metal drag up his thigh, he was unable to stop the full-body shiver that ran up his spine, the roots of his hair tingling against his scalp and his balls drawing up tight against his body. He watched as she swallowed before quickly backing up and away from him, holding the keys out in her hand—she had mercifully left the condoms hidden in his jeans. He slowly lowered his hips back to the seat. His thighs ached, burned as the blood recirculated, and his mouth hung open, jaw extended forward as he sucked in air past his bottom teeth. He swallowed, could still feel how red his face must be, as he reached over and took the keys from her before inserting the one for the car into the ignition. He flicked the headlights on and for a moment they both stared out the windshield at the rain, bright white reflected back at them through a curtain of water, pebbled by drops against the glass.

 _Pfft, pfft, pfft_ , Poppy’s giggle started softly, her hand cupped over her mouth as she looked out at the empty parking lot before she was laughing in earnest, gasping for breath. As her full-throated laughs broke the tension in the small space of the car, Tora let out an exhale. He couldn’t quite bring himself to laugh as Poppy was, but he felt a weak grin pulling at the corners of his mouth. For once, he had no idea what to say to her, and he was still incredibly and noticeably hard as fuck. Tora lifted his hand to flick the wipers on high and watched for a moment as they pushed sheets of water from the glass, only to be blurred again immediately by the continuous downpour. He flipped off the high beams in an attempt to see the road ahead—it helped a little, but he was gonna need to drive a lot slower than he normally did. Wouldn’t that be just his fuckin’ luck: after a near-perfect date, mortifying himself with the fuckin’ condoms and then runnin’ them off the road. And he’d been worried about _Poppy_ and her fuckin’ _doors_. Shit. Poppy’s laughter quieted until all they could hear was the pounding of the rain against the roof of the car, deafening in the small space. Tora squinted out at the road ahead of them and then he felt Poppy’s fingers slip between his where he had placed his hand on the center console between them. He bit his lip around a grin at the soaring feeling in his chest that she’d still want to touch him after… _that_ , flipping his wrist gently so that his palm was face up, her own nestled against his skin. He glanced over at her and she was smiling softly out the window. This woman was too fuckin’ perfect.

As he turned down her street, she said, “it’s 1-2-3-4.” Tora turned his head briefly to look at her before focusing on the road, the rain, not crashing.

“What was that Bobby?” he asked, “I can count, too. Wanna hear?”

She huffed, rolling her eyes as he smirked. He wasn’t sure when it’d happened, but he felt at ease again, mostly. The condoms were still burnin’ a fuckin’ hole in his pocket, but at least his cock had cooled off so that he was only semi-hard. The wet fabric of his briefs with each move of his leg had quickly started to chafe. “It’s the gate code,” she said.

Tora braked suddenly before he could stop himself, and their bodies jerked forward against the seatbelts as Poppy let out a soft _oh!_ He turned in his seat fully to face her, drawing his foot away from the gas and opening his right knee toward her, pulling his hand from hers and pressing it against the seat beside her shoulder. “Bobby. Tell me ya not serious.” He searched her face as she looked back at him in confusion, “ _please_.” Hell, he was no Ronzo but even _he_ fuckin’ knew that was a terrible code. Might as well not even have the damn thing.

She blinked at him, raising her brows. “I mean, I know it’s not great—” she started before he cut her off.

“—Jesus _fuck_ , Poppylan,” he ran a hand down his face before pressing on the gas again, pulling up onto the space where the sidewalk dipped down. He rolled down his window and squinted at the keypad, quickly punching in the numbers, rolling his eyes as his finger skimmed easily across the top row before ducking back down to hit the four, rolling up his window against the rain as the gate slid open on a loud rusty groan. Holy shit, did it always do that or was it just cause of the rain? _Well shit_ , he thought, at least the sound of the gate was a deterrent even if the fuckin’ security guard wasn’t, the stupid fuck.

She pointed to his left. “You can park over there,” she said, her voice just barely registering above the rain on the roof. _Shit, ya scared her, ya fuckin’ idiot_.

He parked, not really giving a shit whether he’d pulled between the lines—most of the lot was empty anyway—before he shut the car off, turning to face her. “Hey,” she looked up at him, “not upset with ya, just—expected better security.” He nodded behind her toward the booth, “since ya got a guard and all.”

She sighed, “yeah, I know. But it’s not so bad,” she smiled. “Be easy for you to remember for next time.” Tora felt his face fall slack as she quickly leaned forward, pecking him on the cheek before she reached for the door handle, pushing herself from the car. He sat in shock for a moment, _next time_ , before she opened the door again, shouting into the car, “Tora, I’m getting wet—you coming?”

 _Getting wet…you coming._ His Bobby. Wet. Coming? He swallowed, grabbing the keys and pulling the trunk release before quickly exiting the car and jogging to grab the grocery bags from the trunk. He hesitated a moment before also grabbing the go-bag he kept in the car for emergencies. This counted, right? If he didn’t change, he knew he’d just continue to chafe—didn’t necessarily mean he expected to spend the night. As he slung it over his shoulder and ran after Poppy to the stairs, he considered how it might look to her, though. She knew now that he’d come prepared with not one, but _two_ , fuckin’ condoms and he’d also had a change of clothes? Shit, what a fuckin’ overeager, horny motherfucker he was. He paused briefly to watch her jog up the steps, the thin fabric of her dress cinching around her ass, her thighs. The black panties so clearly visible. Fuck, he wanted nothing more than to see her bent over. He quickly followed after her, rain streaming down his face as he came to stand beside her, fingers fumbling her key in the door.

“Shoot,” she sputtered against the rain.

Tora chuckled, “here, Bobby,” he put his hand over hers on the lock, taking the key from her fingers and inserting it in one fluid motion, turning until the lock clicked, the door to her apartment swinging open.

He followed her inside quickly, locking the door behind him and closing them in darkness. The room was quiet, the sound of the rain muffled against her windows as he heard her toe off her shoes, and he copied her movements. He could just make her out in the dim light of the city skyline through her balcony door, standing just in front of him as she patted her hair away from her face. They stood facing each listening to the sound of their exhales, the gentle drip of water hitting the floor. He bent over, placing the bags down and took a step toward her, watched in the dim light as she sucked in her bottom lip. Tora drew a hand up to push another wet curl from her face, his other palm coming to rest on the swell of her hip. The fabric under his fingers was wet and cool against the air of her apartment. He watched in silence as she moved her hands to his shirt, her eyes on his as though waiting for him to stop her at any moment. Slowly, she made contact and he felt the gentle press of her fingertips against the center of his chest directly beneath the open V where the two sides of his shirt came together. She exhaled shakily as she slowly pulled the top button from its hole, pausing, the wet material held lightly in her hands before she lowered her fingers to the next one.

Tora couldn’t pull his eyes from her face as she stared at him, it was like she was afraid to look down as she slowly bared his chest, the tops of his abdominal muscles, his belly button, until she’d reached the waist of his jeans where his shirt was still tucked firmly. She glanced down, her breath catching as she ran her eyes over the strip of skin now revealed down his middle. Tora could hardly breathe, he didn’t dare move, too afraid of startling her from this moment, her eyes trailing heat as she dragged them back down to his waist where her fingers rested against his jeans. For the second time in the last hour, he seemed to watch her as though separate from his body. Poppylan undressing him in the quiet darkness of her apartment, the plants like shadows from the ceiling all around them, the smell of sugar, her heat reaching toward him, circling him. Drawing him in like a rock in space toward the sun, helpless to her light. Again, he felt the pull of her, how did she have this effect on him?

She glanced back up before slowly curling her fingers around the bunched fabric and tugging up gently, the slide of the wet shirt against his skin sending goosebumps up his back. He desperately needed her hands on him, her mouth, her body on his but he stood rooted to the spot in front of her door, his eyes adjusting to the darkness as he felt the back of his shirt give way, her palms finally pressing warm against his lower abdomen. He shuddered a sigh around her name that hung in the air around them, electric as her fingers lightly traced the grooves between his abs, stroking up toward his chest before she gently ran her palms up and over his shoulders, standing on her tiptoes to push the waterlogged sleeves down his arms. He watched as she leaned forward and up, felt her lips tender against the hollow at the base of his throat where he groaned low, before she lowered her heels back down. He turned his head slightly, following her with his eyes until she disappeared behind his back, her fingers gripping the top of his collar, peeling the shirt down his arms until he was standing in nothing but his jeans and socks. Tora tried to even his breathing, drawing in air slowly through his nostrils as he felt two of her fingers trace the center of his back, following the strokes of kanji and sending a jolt of electricity up his spine to the base of his neck before she circled back in front of him.

Her fingers hovered, hesitant over the closure of his jeans. He wasn’t sure if he should undo the button himself or if she wanted to, or maybe, he thought as he studied her face, maybe this was the end of the road for tonight. His lungs clenched at the thought, his balls so painfully tight. Sweet fuck, he wanted her, wanted her to keep going. More than that, he wanted to peel the wet dress from her body, to finally feel the fabric of the bra, the panties he’d seen so many hours ago in the mirror on the small screen of his phone. What he wouldn’t give to kiss her everywhere, explore every inch of Poppy with his tongue, slide his hand between her thighs, feel her wet around his fingers, his cock. Her walls squeezing, _fuck_ , there was nothing else. He wanted nothing else. She bit her bottom lip before drawing out a shaky breath. _Shit_. He bit the inside of his mouth, every part of him screaming against what he was about to do.

“Hey,” he reached out, stroking his thumb across her cheek, up her jaw until she leaned her face gently into his open palm. “Sweetheart.” He swallowed, closing his eyes briefly before meeting her gaze, “we got all the time in the world. No pressure.”

He watched as her eyebrows raised slightly, pulling up and together, a silent question. She needed confirmation, needed to know he meant it. _Fuck, don’t_ —he watched his other hand raise between them, his pinky finger extended toward her, a soft smile tugging up the corners of her lips as she wrapped her small finger around his. Shit, she was freezing. “Damn, Bobby. Let’s get ya dry, got any towels?”

She laughed softly, leading him by the pinky across the room to a door that’d been shut. She flipped the switch, throwing them into light suddenly as Tora quickly brought a hand up to shield his eyes. “Shit, Bob—some warnin’ next time, will ya? Feel like I’m fuckin’ blind,” he blinked quickly a handful of times as he listened to her snort, a large purple-green rectangle in the shape of the doorway eclipsed his field of vision.

“My bad, my bad, Tor,” she laughed as she reached into a closet to the side, pulling out two soft towels—handing the top one behind to him before releasing his pinky. “Why don’t you shower,” she said, slipping past him, her wet dress clinging to his skin for a moment as it skimmed along his abdomen. “I have to get some things ready.” He resisted the urge to reach out and pull her back against his body and before he knew it, she had closed the door between them.

 _Sweet fuck,_ he looked around, placing the towel on the rack beside the shower, taking in his dazed expression, shirtless in her bathroom mirror above the sink. How in the fuck had he ended up here? Half-naked, drenched, and more turned on than he was sure he’d ever been in his life? Tora allowed himself a moment to watch his amber eyes blink back at himself before he moved to undo his pants. _Goddamn_ , they were fuckin’ tight, still plastered to his thighs. There was a puddle on the floor where they’d been standing. The floor by her front door was probably a fuckin’ mess—he’d have to ask her if she had any other towels so he could mop it up. He wrestled his pants down to his knees before sitting down on the edge of the tub to peel each leg from his skin, quickly reaching into his pockets—so fuckin’ easy now, why couldn’t it’ve been this easy in the goddamned car—to retrieve the condoms, his keys, and his wallet before he tossed the pants into a heap on the tile. He’d ask her about hanging ‘em somewhere later, he decided, quickly standing to strip his socks, then the briefs that were plastered to his ass. His cock bobbed free as he pulled them off, and fuck, his balls were so goddamn tight. He cupped them gingerly as he stepped into the shower, pulling the curtain closed behind him and turning the water to warm. His back ached at the sudden heat—mild as it was—and he turned it down—fuckin’ Vincent, that evil fuckin’ son of a bitch. He groaned softly as he flexed his shoulders around the injury.

He turned, looking for soap and found an assortment of bottles and jars along a ledge. He squinted, picking them up and turning them over in his hands, softly shaking his head. _Damn,_ he thought. _Bobby likes her options_. He finally found one labeled _shampoo_ and sniffed it quickly—a sweet scent, smelled like her—before squeezing a little onto his palms, lathering it under his arms and gently over the mostly-healed cuts on his neck. He let his hands slip down his body, one fist coming to grip the base of his cock while the other smoothed the warm suds over his balls. Fuck, he needed to come. He’d been so hopeful, so sure that they’d end up using the condoms—was it wrong to do this in her shower? Desire licked up the back of his throat as he leaned his head back, the warm spray of the water caressing his chest, his hands moving freely, desperately as he worked himself. He reached out with his left hand supporting himself against the wall as he spurted toward the drain, once, twice, three times, his hamstrings tensing around the force of his orgasm. Tora breathed heavily, his lips sputtering against the outer edges of the shower’s spray—his head too tall to fit entirely beneath the water. Holy shit, he felt better, like he could see again. He let his eyes close as his right hand pulled back his foreskin, rinsing away the evidence of his need for her, his inability to control himself. But he had, hadn’t he? He’d stopped himself from pushing—she’d clearly hesitated, unsure of herself… _or of him?_ He swallowed hard at that thought, numbly turning the knob and reaching a hand out to grab the towel. He patted himself dry in the tub, squeezing the ends of his hair quickly before wrapping the soft, white cloth around his waist. _Shit_. His bag was by the door.

He looked at himself in the mirror for a second, his left hand clutching the towel around his waist while he ran his other through his hair, separating some of the tangled strands. He could call out to her, ask her to bring it to him, but maybe that’d make her uncomfortable, knowing he was butt-ass naked on the other side of the door. But was walking through her apartment in just a towel weirder? Tora bit the inside of his lip, glancing around the bathroom—it was a lot different from how he’d imagined it. For one, the showerhead was too short for him. But the bathroom also had little touches of Poppy all over it. An assortment of little spikey plants lined a shelf in the corner of the room—he smiled, glad he’d gotten her the little pot from the flower shop. The shower curtain wasn’t pure white like he’d imagined—no, it was printed with images of cacti wearing cowboy hats and goofy grins like the one on her strawberry. He laughed softly to himself, shit, why’d she have to be so fuckin’ cute?

He glanced at himself once more in the mirror. _Fuck it_ , it wasn’t that far from the bathroom to the front door. She might not even notice him. Tora opened the door and nearly dropped his towel in surprise as he almost ran right into Poppy. “Holy shit, Bobby—”

“—Oh my—Tora, sorry—”

She quickly took a step back, her hand clutching his bag as she averted her eyes from his bare chest. She’d changed into a fuzzy robe, the overlarge sleeves pushed up her arms and her feet bare against the floor. Her hair was still soaked through, and, instead of the black streaks of what Tora assumed had been makeup, her chin was dusted in a white powder. “ _Pfft, pfft,_ don’t mind ya lookin’, Bobby,” he smirked, leaning over to grab the strap of his bag from her fist, his left hand still clutching the towel tight around his waist. When she didn’t let go, he glanced back up at her, his smirk splitting into a grin as he watched her mouth fall open. She was staring at the lower half of his tiger tattoo where it circled his calf. He straightened slightly until his head was level with hers, gazing up at her through his lashes before murmuring, “One of the five, Bobby. Like what see?”

She quickly pulled her gaze from his leg, meeting his eyes and squeaking softly at the look he was giving her. She released the bag and backed up as Tora laughed. “No need to run, Bobby,” he smirked at her as she made her way back to the kitchen, bumping into her couch as she stumbled backwards. “I don’t bite,” he purred, “unless ya liked it.” He glanced down at her chest meaningfully where he knew her robe covered the mark he’d left earlier. Poppy blushed as she reached the kitchen before turning away from him quickly. _Goddamn, how’d she make it so easy_ , he laughed as he closed himself in the bathroom again, quickly unzipping the bag and drawing out a t-shirt, briefs, and a pair of joggers. His smile slid from his face as his hand brushed a clip that had fallen loose, the gun tucked into the inner mesh pocket. He frowned. _What would she say if she knew ya’d brought that into her home?_ If she knew of every time he’d used it? Clenching his jaw, he quickly tucked the clip beside the gun, hastily tossing the condoms on top before zipping the bag shut and standing to pull on the dry clothes. _Shit, she doesn’t deserve this._

“Bobby?” he called out as he placed his bag back by the entrance of her apartment, noting she’d already wiped up the water.

“In here!”

There was music playing softly from a laptop placed on a low desk. He smirked at the sign that hung above it, which read _why be moody when you can shake your booty._

“Oh, good,” she said, poking her head around the archway of the kitchen before she quickly ducked into the fridge, pulling something out and striding toward him, her hand extended and fingers wrapped around the neck of…a glass bottle of strawberry juice. That fancy shit he’d bought a week ago the night they’d met. He looked up at her, taking it gingerly from her hand. She smiled, “I think it’s the same kind…” she trailed off. _Holy sweet fuck, this woman…_ he took a step forward, wrapping a hand gently around the back of her neck and pressing his lips against her forehead. He heard her hum and when he pulled away, her eyes remained closed for a moment before she blinked up at him. “I’m gonna hop in the shower,” she said quietly, before lightly smacking his arm when he asked if she needed help, cocking an eyebrow at her. She stepped around him lightly, moving toward the opposite end of the room where she opened a chest of drawers, pulling some clothes from them before she walked toward the bathroom. “Make yourself comfy,” she said as she closed the door shut behind her. Moments later, he heard the hiss of the shower and Tora focused his attention on unscrewing the cap from the bottle, inhaling sharply as he tried not to think about the fact that she was naked in the other room. In the shower. His Bobby. Naked. Fuck, he bit back a groan as he took a sip of the juice, willing the cold liquid to douse the heat of the desire already licking its way back up from his groin.

He walked over to one of the ceiling plants, skimming his fingers over the leaves. It was so fuckin’ soft. Looking closer, he could see why—each leaf was covered in the tiniest white hairs, gossamer kisses against his skin. He smiled before turning to look at the shelves along the wall lined with rows of books—spines facing in. He thumbed one off the shelf and felt his mouth drop open when he saw Quincey’s penname scrawled across the cover. _Holy shit_ , he quickly grabbed another book, recognizing the cover immediately before he glanced back at the door to the bathroom. So, she read the Quincess’s books? And kept the spines hidden? _Interesting_. He slid the books back into place, taking his phone from his pocket and shooting off a text to Quincey. _Might as well get the ball rollin’ on that meeting_ , he thought, before he glanced over at her laptop, curious what kind of music she was into. The playlist open on her screen was titled _it’s okay to cry_ —he frowned, _the fuck?_ He scrolled through the songs, not really recognizing any of them. The one currently playing didn’t sound so sad. He stood back up, maybe he could ask her about it when she was out, he thought as his eyes swept the rest of the room. An easel stood beside a small table, where he saw a couple photographs framed and placed in front of another spikey plant. Shit, she really loved plants, huh? He turned around, walking over to the balcony and examining the lock—not at all secure. Any motherfucker with a pick set could crack this thing. He shook his head before sliding the door open, nearly groaning to himself—she hadn’t even fuckin’ locked it. What good was a lock if she didn’t even fuckin’ use it? He’d have to talk to her about that, but how could he bring it up without fuckin’ scaring her or, worse, bringing up the clans?

He walked over to the railing, fuck, it was a nice view. Reminded him a little of Regina’s Peak. The city stretched out like a web of lights, curving around the Narin River. Even through the heavy sheet of rain pouring over the overhang of the balcony, he could make out the clear boundary where the land met the water. But shit, he put his hand on the railing, testing it—her building could really use a fuckin’ upgrade. The old metal seemed solid enough, but she was only five stories high. Any clan fucker with even an ounce of upper body strength would be able to haul his ass up the building, climb straight up over the railing and into her apartment. And she wouldn’t even fuckin’ know what hit her. He glared over at the security booth in the lot below. The lazy son of a bitch. He was sure as shit gonna get one of his men to take over. No way in hell he’d leave Bobby here without some semblance of protection, even if just for his peace of mind.

He heard her footsteps a moment before her hands slid around his waist, hugging his lower back to her chest. He could feel her tits pressing into him, so fuckin’ soft—was she wearing a bra? He brought his hands to circle her wrists, waiting a moment, letting her hold him before he lifted her arms gently. If she kept herself pressed against him like that, the heat of her body enveloping him, he wasn’t going to be able to control the way his body responded to her touch. “Good shower, sweetheart?” he asked turning to face her as she came to stand beside him at the railing.

“I love this view,” she said, nodding down at the city before reaching a hand out to part the curtain of rain, the water redirecting into streams between her fingers. He watched her for a moment, shit, he couldn’t ruin this. Couldn’t scare her with his worries about locks and faceless men scaling her building. He’d post one of his men at the booth starting tomorrow, maybe talk to Ronzo about a motion sensor for her balcony. No need to freak her out. She pulled her hand back, wiping her fingers on the orange shorts she pulled on and grabbing his hand to lead him back into the apartment. They walked to the kitchen where she released his hand, bending down to rummage in a cupboard as he quickly glanced away from her ass. He leaned against the arch beside the fridge, taking another sip of the juice as he watched her pull on a large glove before opening the oven door and pulling out two round pans.

He watched her for a moment before turning to look at the photos on her fridge. His heart leapt close to his throat as his eyes settled on a bright red strawberry magnet. _There was no way_ , he told himself again, not sure what he was trying to convince himself of. It was fixed to a grainy photo of a man, brown hair, wide brown eyes, a warm smile. He looked just like her— _must be her dad._ The edges of the photo were worn, well-loved. Cherished.

“My dad,” she said. She was watching him from the corner of her eye, head half-tilted toward him.

“You look like him,” Tora said, a finger touching the edge of the strawberry where it met the photo.

She huffed a quiet laugh, “thanks.” She saw him looking at her, an unspoken question in his eyes. “He was a good egg,” she said. Tora’s eyes widened—she must have read his expression as more confusion, smiling briefly at him as she continued, “he was a journalist—big-time in the city before settling in Moonbright. Broke some pretty big stories during his time. At least,” she paused, “that’s what Granny tells me.” She looked over at Tora whose finger was seemingly glued to the fridge, his lips parted. _A good egg._ He swallowed, looking back into her father’s eyes. Had it been _his_ yellow house? _No. No fuckin’ way_. He removed his hand from the fridge, leaning back against the archway trying to control his features, pushing away the hope, the excitement, the fear of disappointment that swirled in his head.

“Whatcha makin’, Bobby?” he asked lightly.

He glanced over at her as she answered, “it’s a surprise.”

“A surprise?” he laughed, “Bobby, I saw ya buy all the stuff.”

“Mmm,” she hummed, flipping the pans upside down onto a metal rack, “real perceptive. You should be a detective. Or even a journalist,” she added as an afterthought, glancing at the photo on the fridge. “Digging up evidence,” she laughed. 

He rolled his eyes as she reached into the fridge beside him, taking out a handful of ingredients that she then poured in a bowl, whisking quickly. He felt his cheeks flush as he whipped his head away from her—holy shit, did she realize the way her tits were bouncin’ in her shirt? He caught sight of something on the top of the fridge and reached up to grab it, unfolding a photo between his thumb and index finger. He frowned at the moment in time: Poppy, she looked to be about the same age as she was now, her face pressed up against another man’s. The man had his palm against her hair, holding her firmly to his head, their bodies pressed together and his fist in the air wrapped around a scroll of paper. Both of them smiling. He swallowed, rubbing his thumb over her face. The photo was crumpled, folded in half so that a crease divided them. Why’d it been on top of the fridge? He glanced up at her, “hey, Bobby,” he started. “Who—”

She looked over at him from the bowl she was whisking against her side, immediately setting the utensil against the rim and taking the photo from his fingers. She folded it again, and shoved it in a drawer one-handed before she held out the bowl to him. “Taste.”

Clearly, she didn’t want to talk about it, he thought, dipping his finger into the bowl before bringing it to his tongue. _Holy shit_ , “damn, Bobby,” he reached back and swiped his finger into the bowl again. It was sweet, but just faintly so. Not overpowering. Kind of like the fancy juice in his other hand. “What is it?”

She beamed at him before schooling her face into a smirk, “thought you knew what I was making.”

He rolled his eyes as she set the bowl on the counter and pulled out a pack of strawberries from the fridge. “Shit, Bobby,” he said, grabbing one from the container. “Ya holdin’ out on me.”

Tora took a bite as she shooed him from the kitchen, “go sit down,” she scolded as he laughed. “I’m almost done.” Poppy peeked back out at him as he slumped down onto the couch, “and keep your eyes closed,” she said.

“For real?”

“Yes, Tora. For real,” she said before disappearing.

He rolled his eyes, but closed them, leaning his head back against the cushion. How the fuck had he managed to end up here? He felt his phone buzz—probably Quincey. He’d check it later. Vincent had already gotten his report earlier that morning. The chances that he was texting this late at night— _wait, early in the morning?_ —were slim unless something big was goin’ down. And if that was the case, he’d definitely call when Tora didn’t answer. He just wanted to be here in the moment with Bobby. No distractions. No clan. Just the two of ‘em alone, surrounded by plants and her dirty books, _pfft_. Who would’ve guessed?

The sound of her bare feet padding across the floor from the kitchen pulled Tora from his thoughts. “Before you open your eyes,” she said, “promise you won’t laugh.”

He smirked, “the fuck ya make for me, Bobby?”

He could hear the smile in her voice as she replied, “just promise me.”

He rolled his eyes, still closed, the soft glow of the room flashing as his lids pulled apart for a second. “Sure, Bobby. Promise,” he sighed.

“Okay then.”

Tora opened and closed his eyes, raising his head from the back of the couch, blinking at the darkness of the room—she’d turned the lights off. He looked down at the plate she was holding in front of him, felt his lips part as he stared at the light of the candles between her arms. Slices of strawberries circled the top of the cake, the white frosting glistening with each flicker of the tiny flames. It looked like she’d used an entire pack of the colorful wax, none of the sparkly shit from last year. Simple. Baked specifically for him by this woman he—

Tora swallowed, tearing his gaze away and back up to her face as she said in a rush, “it’s not my best work…the cake is still hot, so the frosting kind of melted…” she trailed off, her eyes searching his face as she bit her bottom lip.

“Come here, woman,” he said, reaching a hand out to hold the back of her thigh, pulling her slowly toward him until she sat on the cushion beside him, the plate gripped against her lap. _I love it_ , he wanted to say, the words caught in his throat as her face, lit by the light of the flames grew blurry. _Shit_.

“Had to buy another pack,” she said, nodding down toward the candles, “cause you’re so old.” She smiled as he laughed, waiting until he had quieted before she continued, “if you can blow them all out on one breath, you get to make a wish. But you can’t tell anyone what you wish for or else it won’t come true,” she said solemnly.

“Ya really take this wishin’ business seriously, huh?” he said, glancing down at the cake before smirking up at her.

“Well, you gotta,” she said, like it was the most obvious thing.

He took a deep breath, taking the plate from her lap and holding it between them. Tora swallowed, watched as the wax from one of the candles suddenly spilled over the top, dripping down onto the cake and pooling against the shiny surface. _You gotta_. He glanced over at her in the corner of his eye. Poppy was staring at his face intently, so he squeezed his eyes shut, biting his lip between his teeth as he pretended to think really hard. He heard her gentle snort over the pitter patter of the rain on the windows, felt her warm hand push gently against his thigh, didn’t need to open his eyes to feel as she rolled hers. _Please_. He took a deep inhale, looking down at the candles, and blew until they were all out, the sweet scent of smoke hanging in the air as soft tendrils curled around them.

She reached over grabbing the plate from his hands, “I’ll go cut us a piece.”

“Wait,” he said, reaching over with his thumb that was smeared with frosting from the edge of the dish, touching it to her nose lightly. He pulled his hand back, bringing his thumb to his mouth, she was so fuckin’ cute. Her wide eyes curious. “Pretty.”

She blushed, staring at him for a moment as she watched him lick the rest of the frosting from his thumb before she stood up, leaving him on the couch before quickly returning with a slice. It was delicious—he normally didn’t like sweet shit, but fuck, she’d _made_ it for him. Invited him into her home and given him something that—until a week ago—he’d never known he was missing. They talked softly about her project at work and he listened, feeding her bites in between his own. This Lamb guy sounded like real fuckin’ tool, but it made his chest swell with pride knowing there was something he could do to help. When they were done, he placed the plate down on the ground and pulled her against his chest, stretching out on the couch as she settled between his legs. He listened to the rain, calmer now against the roof, the windows. Her breathe against his shirt as it slowed, deepened. His phone buzzed again. _No_ , he thought. Didn’t even consider checking it. The sky could be falling down around them and he wouldn’t leave this spot, this woman, his Bobby tucked between his legs, nestled soft against his chest. The whisper of her hair, still damp from the shower under his chin.

Tora stared at the rain out the balcony, clenched his hands around his forearms as he softly tightened his hold around her waist. He let his eyes close, listening to the hum of her exhales, breathing in the sweet scent of her hair. His phone buzzed again, but he was already asleep.

*

Tora coughed lightly, something was heavy on his chest. Shit, was it another injury flaring up? Sometimes that happened. He couldn’t feel his leg. He blinked his eyes open against a ray of sun, holy shit, his back ached, his left arm was numb, tingling over the side of the couch. He looked down: Poppy heavy against his torso. He could feel a wet spot on his shirt where her mouth had fallen open. _Pfft, pfft_. He tilted his head to the side, _holy fuck._ His spine felt like he’d just been flattened by a fuckin steamroller. _What time was it?_ He blinked again, swallowing, _shit_ his throat was dry. He needed to find his phone, check the time, could feel weighing down the pocket of the leg that had slipped from the couch. He tilted his hips, before abruptly freezing, could feel his morning fuckin’ wood caught between her body and his. _Shit_. There was no hiding it, short of throwing her onto the fuckin’ floor. He sighed, maybe it’d go away before she woke up. Besides, not like she’d never seen him hard before. His face flushed at the memory, _fuck, maybe she’d forget about that._ Trying to move as little as possible, he reached into his pocket, pausing every time she moved her head in sleep. As he pulled the device free, she shifted her hips against his and he froze, his cock stiffening, _fuck_.

He waited, holding his breath, not daring to exhale. A moment passed and he let himself relax. And then she moaned. Tora’s eyes flew open, huffing out a breath as he felt her grind her hips up against his once. He listened as her breathing evened out, then hitched again, her hips pressing against his a second time. _Sweet everloving fuck._ He felt the phone slip from his fingers a moment before it clattered to the floor. _Maybe she won’t wake up_ , he thought as, at first, she didn’t move. And then her head was rolling against his chest as she blinked herself awake.

“…To-ra?” she asked, voice still heavy with sleep.

“Bobby.” Suddenly she scrambled up, pushing herself up off his chest as he grunted under the force. “Shit, Bobby,” he groaned as blood rushed into his right leg. He watched as she glanced down at his pants, his erection clear as day, her eyes widening and lips parting as she met his eyes.

“Oh! Oh my—Tora, I’m so—” in her haste to give him space, she brought her knee up quickly to stand, and Tora—knowing what was about to happen—moved to block her, but he wasn’t fast enough as her leg accidentally connected with his balls. His vision flashed as he choked out a groan, both his hands shooting out to cup his groin as his legs pulled up automatically, body rolling to his side. Poppy looked on in horror, and he vaguely registered that she was speaking, babbling apologies as her hands flew helplessly over his fetal form.

Finally, after a few long minutes, he grunted, “s’okay, Bobby.” She watched as he slowly sat up.

“Do you need ice?”

He laughed twice, “nah, Bobby. I’m good.”

She waited a moment, glancing away from him before she offered, “you want cake?”

He laughed, “how often ya just eat sugar for breakfast?”

She shrugged, “we could go get something else?”

He glanced up at her in surprise, “can’t get enough of me, eh, Bobby?” He smirked as she rolled her eyes.

“If you’d rather not—”

“Never said that,” he cut her off, “tell ya what, Bob,” he said as he reached for his phone. “Ya got a spare hair tie and ya got yaself a deal. Lost mine somewhere.”

“I gotcha, Tor.”

 _Pfft, Tor._ He unlocked his phone as she walked away. Should plug it in on the drive, he thought. Battery was a little too low. He tapped his messages, seeing three notifications. _Please don’t be fuckin’ Vince_. He frowned—an unknown number. Tora felt his face fall as Poppy walked back into the room, holding a hair tie with a plastic strawberry on the end. He looked up at her, trying desperately to keep his expression neutral, quickly pressing the power button to lock the screen, the texts burning against his eyelids as he blinked at the strawberry she held out toward him.

@Unknown: I’m at this countryside town, Moonbright. I’m outside the train station now right by the signboard

@Unknown: You gotta come save me. They’re gonna fuckin kill me if you don’t come.

@Unknown: I dont know hw much longer I can hide. Maybe an hr or so before my battery dies

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Am I ever going to get back to Poppy’s perspective? Yes. When? idk, Tora’s real fun. Over the course of the three chapters of this date, I considered going back to her perspective many, many times, but then I just figured…why not have more dates? Hehe
> 
> Also, side note: shout out to those two condoms lol
> 
> Ch. 14: Shit picks up.


	14. Cleanup

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tora’s first date with Poppy draws to a bittersweet end. Martin has a job for him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 🥴🥴
> 
> As always, characters belong to the real MVP Lilydusk, brilliant creator of Midnight Poppy Land. Eternal gratitude to you, Lily—truly. What a world you’ve created. Support her on Patreon! https://www.patreon.com/lilydusk
> 
> CW: some violence/implied violence

**Chapter 14**

Tora looked up at her, trying desperately to keep his expression neutral, quickly pressing the power button to lock the screen, the texts burning against his eyelids as he blinked at the strawberry Poppy held out toward him.

@Unknown: I’m at this countryside town, Moonbright. I’m outside the train station now right by the signboard

@Unknown: You gotta come save me. They’re gonna fuckin kill me if you don’t come.

@Unknown: I dont know hw much longer I can hide. Maybe an hr or so before my battery dies

He reached out slowly, pinching the plastic between his fingers as he gingerly took the tie from Poppy’s hand. She tilted her head, watching as he seemed to contemplate the thing. She extended her hand back toward him slightly, as though making to take it back, “if you want a different one, I’m sure I can find another one around—”

Tora quickly rolled the elastic between his thumb and index finger until the strawberry hit his second row of knuckles. He slipped his fingers through the loop, opening them wide so that the band slid down to his wrist before he raised his hands to his hair, making quick work of tying it up into a bun with her gift. He flipped his head to the side, displaying his handiwork for Poppy, “how’s it look?”

He tilted his head back around to look up at her from his seat on the couch, keeping his face angled down so that she had to look through his lashes to meet his eyes. He watched as she clapped a hand over her mouth, _pfft, pfft_. “Very macho,” she said.

“Good, s’what I was goin’ for,” he smirked at her, hoping his face didn’t betray any of the anguish he felt over the texts. He swallowed, knowing he had to make a decision quickly—take her to breakfast or follow up on whatever the fuck the messages meant. _Shit_ , he thought. Vince would kill him if he found out he hadn’t followed a lead immediately. And the odds that the texts _weren’t_ from Goliath were pretty slim. Who else could get into shit that deep while simultaneously bein’ a bigger goddamned cockblock than even Alice. Who fuckin’ else.

“Hey, Bobby,” Tora reached out and held her hand, spreading his legs and bringing her to stand between them. She looked down at him, the smile on her face faltering as she lowered herself to sit on his thigh. If he hadn’t checked his fuckin’ phone, he would’ve spent time admiring the way her ass felt so soft and round on his leg. Her weight against him, grounding him. _Goddamn_ , his balls fuckin’ ached—no one had landed a knee to his groin in… _years_. He smiled to himself at this strong, _feisty_ hamster of a woman. The muscles between his legs tightened as he took in her body, her hair tousled and cheeks still rosy with sleep, soft indents along the side of her face from where she’d passed out pressed against the wrinkles in his shirt. He reached up and followed one with his thumb before softly wiping at the sleep in the outer corner of her eye. She closed it tight, scrunching her face up as she peered at him with her other eye. _Pfft, fuckin’ adorable hamster_. He tightened his jaw, brow furrowing, his body closing in on itself in protest of what he knew he had to say next.

“You have to go,” she said, her eyes roaming his face.

 _This woman_ , he puffed an exhale as his lips parted in surprise. _How could she read him like that so easily?_ “Got an assignment,” he said, watched as she glanced over at the phone he’d tossed onto the couch beside them. He stared into her eyes, _fuck,_ her face was so close. Her lips right there. “Don’t wanna go.” He bit his lip, scanning her face for a flicker of a sign that she wanted him to stay. _Please_. She nodded her head, leaning forward until her nose skimmed against his. She waited there, her lips lightly brushing his with each exhale until he moved to close the whisper of space between them, pressing his mouth to hers, arms coming up to circle her tiny, warm body perched on his lap, her legs hanging between his own. He felt her fingers run up the sides of his neck, whisper-light against his skin as he moaned softly against her mouth, her bottom lip tucked between his. Her nails scraped up the back of his scalp from the base of his neck lightly until they tangled in his bun. He tightened his arms around her waist, one hand moving up the curve of her spine to rest between her shoulder blades, fingers splayed wide as he pulled her toward him. His cocked ached, balls so fuckin’ tight between his legs, but there was no rush here, no urgency from the night before. _We got all the time in the world_ , he’d told her. Meant it, pushing away thoughts of anything outside this apartment, this woman circled in his arms, the sunlight catching loose strands of her hair crowning her face against his in a halo.

She moved then, responding to his embrace with her own as she lifted her leg, settling a knee on either side of his waist as she leaned him back into the couch. He let her push him gently against the cushion, content to linger in this moment for the rest of his life, Poppy in his arms, both of them warm, soft with sleep as they kissed in the morning light of her apartment. Neither of them had brushed their teeth, and Tora couldn’t fuckin’ care less. He readjusted his arms so that one palm stayed spread against her back, his other hand lowering to her hip where he rubbed slowly from the top of her thigh where the seam of her shorts rested all the way back to the dip of her skin where her thigh met her ass, then back. As their lips moved against each other, he felt her hands leave his hair, where she had loosened much of it from the bun, roaming back down his neck until one of her hands gripped the collar of his t-shirt, the other sliding down his chest, his lats, until she was tugging at the hem of his shirt. She broke away from the kiss for a moment, slowly drawing the end of his shirt up his torso, her thumb skimming his skin as she dragged her fist up his body. Tora moved to raise his arms, helping her to pull it over his head and off his arms before tossing it lightly on top of his phone beside them. He slid a palm back up her spine, pressing her against his chest as his lips returned to hers, his other hand gliding up the bare skin of her thigh to wrap around her ass, pulling her closer. Closer.

She gasped against his mouth, her lips open in a soft moan as he ground against the inner dip of her hip once. The hand on her back rubbed up and down her spine before he moved to wrap his palm around her side, thumb skimming the underside of her heavy breast. Tora felt the hard peaks of her nipples graze his chest as she pressed the fabric of her shirt against his bare skin—he felt a hot ball of tension low in his groin as his cock pressed up against the layers of fabric between them, straining to feel her bare skin against his own. But they had time, he told himself. That could wait, he would wait. She broke away from the slow kiss, trailing her mouth down his chin, his jaw, his throat as he leaned his head back, his mouth open in a low moan around her name. He felt her smile against his neck as she brought her hands to his chest, rubbing out toward his shoulders before moving back in toward his sternum, her wrists brushing over his nipples lightly. He pulled his head back up to look at her as she trailed her lips back up his neck until she was kissing the corners of his mouth, her hands covering his own, her fingers gripping his wrists lightly as she redirected his palms to wrap just above her waist.

He thought he might know what she was asking him wordlessly, so he moved his hands up slightly and felt as she pressed her hips more firmly against his. He swallowed as he kissed her, tentatively skimming his thumbs along the underside of her breasts which heaved once on a shuddered exhale, her mouth pressing harder, insistent against his lips. He tried again, thumbs skimming slightly higher, just beneath the peaks of her nipples and her hands tightened their grip at the back of his neck. On an inhale through his nose as he kissed her, he thumbed the fabric covering her nipples and his eyes shot open as she whimpered. He rubbed his thumbs then, circling her tits as his palms slid around her side, cupping both of her breasts, a perfect fit against his open hands. Poppy squirmed against his lap, his cock rubbing eagerly against her hip as he listened to her deep breathing grow shallow, her gasps coming quicker as he moved one hand down her torso until his palm rested against her between their bodies, fingers splayed up toward her lower belly.

He waited, kissing her, lips trailing down her neck, his other caressing her swell of her chest until she ground down against his hand. He smiled against the soft skin of her neck, thumbing her nipple in a slow circle as he pressed the heel of his thumb to her mound. She paused her movements for a moment before she leaned into his hand, bending her neck back as she pressed further against his body, arching her back. Slowly, he began moving his hand, rocking back and forth at the center of her shorts. He breathed hard against her neck as he felt the fabric grow damp, forcing himself not to flip her over onto the couch. This was for her, he told himself. For Poppy. _All the time in the world_. The sunlight warm on his knees, Poppy melting against his legs, his chest, the heel of his hand. She brought her forearms to rest against the sides of his neck, fingers twisting in the loose strands of his hair as she moved with his hand, grinding her hips with the subtle rock of his wrist. He adjusted the hand at her breast slightly so that he could roll her nipple lightly through the fabric of her shirt as he felt her thighs begin to tremble.

“Oh,” she moaned on a breath against the top of his head as he skimmed his teeth along her neck in a trail of open-mouthed kisses, sucking slightly, knowing he was going to leave marks and simply not caring. Poppylan, her pleasure was everything, and with every light scrape of his teeth she bucked against him. He breathed her name low every few exhales as she moaned in his ear, her legs shaking in earnest against the outsides of his thighs, the fabric between her legs now wet against the heel of his thumb. He heard her start to gasp, inhaling short bursts of air and he increased the pressure of his hand at her center slightly, bringing his mouth down to her other nipple and sucking at her through her shirt. She let out a low moan then that shook as he felt her spasm against his hand, the muscles of her inner thighs twitching lightly against his legs as her rocking grew less insistent. He released her nipple, kissing his way back up her neck and to her forehead. She leaned softly into him, her exhales deep against the rise and fall of his chest. He removed his hand from between them, circling his arms around her back and holding her to his chest, kissing her hair lightly as he felt her nuzzle against his neck. Fuck, he never wanted to leave. His cock, his balls ached. Begged for release, but sweet fuck, he swallowed. It didn’t matter, _all the time in the world._ There was only Poppy pressed up against him. He was determined to hold her for as long as she’d allow, his heart aching at the thought of what the day ahead held apart from her. Maybe she’d let him come over later, he hoped. Tora opened his eyes, staring out her balcony where raindrops from the night before dotted the glass of the door, refracting sunlight into the room as little flecks of rainbows. For a moment, he watched the slow steady drips of water off the balcony overhang, the plants along her railing catching the remnants of the storm as he smoothed his palms up and down her back.

Finally, he felt her stir against him as she lifted her head, palms pressing against his bare chest. She looked down at his tattoos, seeing them clearly for the first time as she skimmed her fingers up and down the ink. She drew her eyes to his and he couldn’t name the look she gave him, something like longing in her expression—he would have bet anything that she could see it reflected in his own face, the set of his jaw. “Will you be back?” she asked softly her face flushed, glancing over at his t-shirt, the imprint of his phone beneath the soft, worn fabric.

He leaned toward her, kissing her forehead, damp with sweat. He didn’t like the look that’d passed over her face as she’d spoken—like she didn’t expect him to, was certain he was about to disappear, disappoint. “Yeah, Bobby,” he said, lifting his pinky. She smiled softly at it before looking up at him, nodding.

She glanced down, “you probably want your jeans, huh?”

He frowned slightly, following her gaze to the dark spot where his cock still pressed against his pants, his precum wet through two layers of fabric. _Well, shit_ , he thought, at the same moment realizing he’d forgotten to collect his pants from the bathroom floor after his shower—they were probably still wet. Probably smelled, too. He sighed, meeting her gaze and nodding. She leaned forward, pressing her lips to his nose before she steadied herself with her palms against his shoulders, climbing back off of his lap. His cock ached at the sudden loss of her body against his own, but he knew it was time. He stood as she made her way to the kitchen, watching her hips sway back and forth in the shorts he knew were damp with her need.

She called over her shoulder, “sure you don’t want a piece for the road?”

He laughed, “nah, Bobby—need some nutrients, same as ya,” he said, nodding his head toward her as he pulled on his shirt.

 _“Pfft,_ sugar’s at the top of the food pyramid,” she said, “which makes it the most important food group.”

He rolled his eyes, “dunno the fuck a food pyramid is, but I call bullshit.” Tora padded over to the bathroom, closing the door to take a piss. He looked over at his jeans on the floor—he could smell the wet denim from where he stood, shaking out over her toilet. _Fuck_. He quickly washed his hands, splashing water on his face and, seeing a bottle of mouthwash by her sink, took a swig before spitting down the drain. He ran a hand through his hair until he caught the strawberry tie, pulling it from his hair. He looked at it for a moment, smiling. Pulling out his phone, he snapped a picture and sent it to his group chat with Quincey and Gyu before he remembered he was supposed to be upset with them. Quincey for fuckin’ meddling and Gyu for lying to him about Bobby. He opened a separate chain with the smaller man and sent him a quick text.

@Tora: need to talk

Tora balanced his phone on the edge of the sink, quickly tying his hair back into a half-knot before leaning down to grab his jeans. Shit, there was no way he could wear these—the material was still soaked all the way through. He felt his grip crushing something soft between the wet layers of fabric and he let his head fall back knowing it was gonna be long fuckin’ day. He fished the sodden pack of cigarettes from the jeans, peeling open the cover with an ounce of hope in his chest, but sure as shit all the smokes were saturated. At the smell, he felt a pang in his head, realizing how long it’d been since he’d lit up. Fuck, he needed one, would need to make a pitstop on his way to—

Tora’s phone buzzed on the sink and he picked it up. Fuckin’ Martin.

@Martin: Got a job for you.

He waited, fingers rubbing against the wet packaging of the cigarettes as the text bubbles blinked. Tora glanced down at his pants. The precum had mostly dried, and it wasn’t too noticeable. He grabbed a square of toilet paper and wiped it—that helped. His phone buzzed again and Tora read the instructions—sounded simple enough. An address at a shipping yard and a cleanup. He rolled his eyes, fuckin’ grunt work. The sooner this notebook shit was settled the better. His phone buzzed again, and Tora repressed a groan when he read the message.

@Martin: Take Lang.

That fucker. He’d been weighing the idea of going to Moonbright first and saving the cleanup for later that night—it was always safer doin’ shady shit under the cover of darkness, especially in such an open location. Besides, it’d been hours since the texts—if Goliath really was in trouble, he should move quickly. But Tora really didn’t want to spend his night with fuckin’ Claude—the weak fucker would predictably draw out the job longer than it needed to be, either to get a rise out of Tora or cause he was shit at his job. Both had been the case whenever he’d worked with the man before. Another reason Tora preferred to work the fuck alone. He sighed, shooting a text back to Martin to accept the job and to find out where the fuck his boy was.

Tora heard a soft knock on the door. When he turned the knob, he found Poppy holding something wrapped in foil which she extended toward him, “for the road.”

He smirked, taking it from her hand—it felt hot. “Ya make me somethin’, Bobby?” he asked her as he moved toward the front door, jeans and smokes held in his other hand as he made his way to his bag.

“Oh,” she said, darting toward him to grab the wet pants from his fist, her fingers brushing against the wet box of cigarettes. “First of all,” she said, trying to remove both from his grip as he watched her lift his fingers in amusement, “these are bad for you,” she tossed the wet pack on the floor where it landed with a soft thud. Tora narrowed his eyes as she continued, “and second, let me wash these. They’re going to smell.” She tugged the pants from his hand, but as he opened his mouth to protest, she stopped him, “I’m washing mine anyway. They’ll be all nice and clean for you later.”

“Later?”

She nodded, not looking at him, instead running her fingers along the waistband of the jeans in her hands. “You owe me a raincheck for breakfast, remember?” she said.

He smirked, “course, Bobby. Just didn’t think ya’d want me back so soon,” he bent to grab the pack of cigarettes from the floor. Maybe if he left them on his dash the sun might dry them.

She tugged them from his hand. “You’re killing yourself,” she said softly. He tilted his head, frowning slightly. Was it really that important to her? He’d never thought about the future before. What did it matter if he shaved some years off his life? Not like he was gonna last a while anyway. “And others,” she added, somehow softer. His eyebrows shot up. Shit, thought’d never crossed his mind. Everyone he knew smoked ‘em, except for Quincey. And Vincent. Tora couldn’t give a shit about the boss, but his son never complained. He just had a weekly appointment with a company that deep cleaned the penthouse. But Bobby didn’t smoke. Clearly didn’t like him smokin’ either. _Shit_.

He sighed, better to save this for another time. He had to get goin’ if he had to pick up Claude. “Kay, sweetheart,” he said, kissing her forehead before running his thumb along her hairline. He bent toward his bag, unzipping away from her so she wouldn’t be able to see the weapon stashed in the mesh inner pocket, as he pulled out a pair of socks that he’d balled in the corner. He tugged them on, glancing at his shoes by the door. Shit, they were probably soaked, too. “Don’t suppose ya know how to dry out shoes,” he looked up at her, palming the foil packet she’d given him.

She looked over at his sneakers where there was still a puddle under the soles. She shook her head, “nope, sorry.”

“S’alright,” he said, closing the bag and bringing the strap up and over his head so it rested across his chest. He toed on his shoes—soggy as shit—before he turned to her, dropping a kiss to her cheek, “worth it.” Tora unlocked the deadbolt, moving over the threshold to the outdoor hallway, the sun warm on his back as he turned to look at her, motioning toward the wall, “lock up behind me.”

He waited until he heard the click of the latch before turning around to jog down the steps to the parking lot. “1-2-3-4,” he muttered under his breath, rolling his eyes as he looked over at the security booth. “What a fuckin’ joke.” He popped the trunk, tossing his bag in before slamming it closed and walking around to the driver’s side, skimming a palm against the dent in the roof. He swept the pool of water out with a flick of his wrist—no need for it to rust, too. As he slid down into the seat, he pulled his phone from his pocket, opening up a message to one of his men he trusted as much as Gyu.

@Tora: post up here for the day

He sent the address of her building and then considered how vague he should keep his instructions. Technically, he knew he didn’t need to give Damien a reason—the man would follow his orders no matter what. His thumbs hovered over his screen for a second as he glanced up through the bright raindrops on his windshield that glinted in the sun. His phone buzzed.

@Damien: sure, big bro

Quickly, he typed out another message, peeling back the foil of the gift Poppy had given him which turned out to be some kind of breakfast sandwich: eggs and cheese, a muffin split open. It was fuckin’ delicious and just what he needed—he’d have to thank her later.

@Tora: see if Ronzo can find out anything about the building security. take bryan with ya and watch for ninedaggers

He exited the chat and sent a message to Claude to get his location. Even just seeing the man’s text bubbles appear made his hands twitch. Fuck, this was gonna be a long day and he could really use a fuckin’ smoke. A couple seconds later, he rolled his eyes—the fucker was at Club Miracle. Tora couldn’t tell which scenario was worse: that Claude had been out all night and would probably still be piss drunk or hungover, or that the fucker had started his day getting shitfaced. He put the car in drive, swerving toward the gate which opened on a sensor, the sound of the rusty metal reverberating down the street. He peeled out, headed toward Ares Street, intent on getting this job over with quick.

*

Tora took a deep breath, stepping from the car as he settled his mouth into a grim line. He pulled out the pack of cigarettes he’d picked up on the way to the club, unable to stop shaking and unwilling to give Claude the chance to mistake his tremors for nerves or weakness. He’d try quitting some other time. He lit the cigarette—his third in the time it’d taken him to drive from the gas station by Poppy’s to the heart of Ares Street. Taking a long drag and glancing up toward the building, he pulled out his phone to text the fucker. Wasn’t gonna wait around all day and he sure as shit didn’t want to have to go inside. He really wasn’t in any fuckin’ mood to be fawned over by the Saturday morning dancers. He’d just wanted to take his girl to breakfast so he could watch her eat fuckin’ pancakes or some other cute shit. Was that really so much to ask? Still…he took another drag, thinking. If he hadn’t said he’d needed to leave, maybe she wouldn’t sat on his lap, wouldn’t have let him touch her like that, his hand pressed against the soft mound where her legs came together. And then he wouldn’t have heard her moan against his ear as she rocked against him, wouldn’t have felt her come undone on his lap, the feel of her thighs trembling around him, the feel of her tit in his mouth. Wouldn’t have known the feeling of being able to unravel her. _Fuck_ , if he didn’t stop thinkin’ about her, his joggers were gonna make it very obvious what he was missing. He waited. And waited. Watched as the city began to wake up or, rather, as the Friday night crowd headed home. He threw his head back around a frustrated sigh as he quickly tossed his cigarette to the ground, stubbing it out before making his way to the neon doors of the club, feeling his toes squish slightly against the soles of his shoes which still hadn’t quite dried all the way despite having driven around fuckin’ shoeless like an idiot, leaving them on the dash for the sun.

He pulled open the door, pausing as he stepped inside to let his eyes readjust to the large dim room, lit in a haze of pinks and purples. Standing in the heart of Balthuman territory, he was acutely aware and grateful for the press of the gun against his ass where he’d tucked it into the back of his briefs, not trusting the elastic waistband of his joggers to hold it securely. Not trusting the other clan members in the building enough to keep it strapped under the passenger seat. And sure as shit not trusting Claude enough—that fucker—not to leave him in a bind. He stalked over to the bar at the front end of the room, rapping his knuckles once to get the attention of the man who stood behind the counter. “Oi,” he said, nodding his head once before glancing back around the room. “The fuck’s Lang at.”

The bartender, who was toweling off a glass, greeted him, nodding his head once as he said, “Big Bro,” before gesturing with the glass toward the far end of the room on the other side of the stage with a faint look of disgust. Tora squinted around the poles, the metal reflecting the bright neon designs hung on the walls of the club, finding Claude where he was lounging on a low couch. Tora rolled his eyes at the scene—one of the dancers was crouched between his legs, her head bobbing quickly as Claude stretched out, his arms flung wide on the back of the couch, his eyes shut. _This goddamned motherfucking waste of space_ — Tora put a hand to his mouth, projecting his voice to the back of the room as he shouted, “OI! LANG, GET YA NASTY FUCKIN’ ASS OVER HERE, WE’RE FUCKIN’ LEAVIN’! AND CHECK YA GODDAMNED FUCKIN’ PHONE!”

He saw Claude’s head whip up and his eyes fly open as he rushed to push the girl aside. Tora rolled his eyes as she glanced over at him, _shit_. He turned quickly, striding toward the door as he heard Candy calling out after him. Of all the people in the world, she was definitely the last he wanted to talk to, and he sure as shit didn’t want to feel her clawing up his body like she normally did whenever he was unlucky enough to be in the same room as her. Tora shouldered the door open, blinking at in the bright light of the sun, pulling another cigarette from his pack which he quickly lit before climbing into the car. He could hear Claude stumbling out behind him before the other man ducked into the passenger seat.

Tora spared him a glance, rolling his eyes as he peeled away from the building and off toward the address Martin had sent. “For fuck’s sake, Lang. You’re on the clock, don’t waste my fuckin’ time,” he growled. “Be a fuckin’ professional for once in ya goddamned life,” he said, and when the younger man just stared back at him blankly, Tora added, “zip up, ya stupid fuck.” Claude glanced down and Tora heard him quickly readjust his jeans.

“Shit, Big Bro,” he said finally, “didn’t know you were already on your way. Martin said—”

“Lang, I don’t give a shit what ya do on ya own time, but Jesus fuck,” he said, taking a drag and blowing it out the window, “ya always that fuckin’ stupid?” The man had had his dick out and his eyes fuckin’ closed in one of the most dangerous places in the city. Anywhere known for large clan gatherings was an easy fuckin’ target and this asshole knew it, the cocky son of a bitch, thinkin’ he was invincible as a fuckin’ lieutenant. Tora inhaled again, clenching his jaw. He was never gonna be able to unsee that shit. “Least ya could do is take it to the back like everyone else, fuck’s sake,” he muttered.

They drove in silence, both their jaws clicking in anger at the other until Claude finally spoke, “you smell like you just fucked some chick.”

Tora swallowed, clenching his hand around the wheel. The smell of Poppy’s soap on his skin, in his hair, had been helping to calm him—he hadn’t known it was so strong, though.

“Thought you didn’t swing that way.”

 _Pfft_ , good. Let him think that, “don’t.”

Claude exhaled sharply through his nose, “makes sense. Young Master’s into that frilly shit, right.”

Tora shot him a look that made Claude rethink whatever he’d been about to say next, as his mouth snapped shut. “Wonder what the big boss’d do if he heard ya sayin’ shit like that.” He listened as Claude gulped audibly. _That’s right, fucker._ Tora knew there’d been rumors for years about him and Quincey being lovers or some shit, and honestly neither of them had cared enough to do anything about them. Now, Tora realized with some small comfort, the rumors might actually help in keepin’ nosy fuckers like Claude from finding out about Bobby.

He slowed down as they approached the entrance to the shipping yard, Tora stubbing his cigarette in the ashtray and reaching around to grab the gun from behind him, moving to grip it against his right thigh as he maneuvered the car between two large, rusted shipping containers. Claude mirrored his movements beside him, turning his head this way and that as he checked the area around them for passersby, civilians or otherwise. “Seems clear,” he said, moving to get out of the car as Tora followed, rolling his eyes. _Seems…pfft_. He found himself wondering once again, as he did every time he had to work with Claude or Scharch, why the fuck Martin trusted them. Fuckin’ amateur hour.

“Martin tell you where the body is?” Tora growled lowly as lifted the cover to the spare tire well in his trunk, pulling out a duffel bag. From the side pocket, he pulled on a pair of gloves before shouldering the bag and joining Claude at the hood of the car, peering around the container closest to him. He glanced back and forth—not a soul.

Claude walked up next to him, pulling out his phone and scrolling until he finally found what he was looking for. “Yeah. It’s, uh, B-A-L—”

“The fuck are ya sayin’?” Tora grunted, he glanced down at Claude’s screen where he saw a string of numbers and letters that the man was reading from.

“Body’s in a reefer,” he said. We’re looking for the container labeled, “B-A-L-U-9-4-5-5-3-7-2.” Tora clenched his fist around the grip of his gun. The body was _in_ a shipping container? What were the chances that Vince’d have two jobs involving this specific mode of transport in two weeks? In all the time Tora’d done the man’s bidding, he’d only ever encountered the use of containers a handful of times—usually for moving product and other contraband in a way that seemed above-board. Only one other time there’d been a body, and the man had been alive then.

“Ya know where the fuck it is?” Tora bit out. The yard was huge, sprawling close to the mouth of the Narin River, the city skyline hazy in the distance.

“Yeah, should be a tracker…” Claude trailed off, tapping on his screen. “Got it.” He moved out from between the containers, Tora following a couple paces behind, sweeping his eyes around the open area as they ventured closer to the water. Shit, if he’d known it’d be this far, he would’ve parked closer. They still had to bring a body all the way back without being seen, and it was the middle of the fuckin’ day. Sunny as shit.

Just as he was about to raise this point, Claude held up the hand holding his gun, his other palm gripping his phone. He glanced ahead at a large cargo container, painted a deep blue with hints of rust like dried blood around the sharp corners. “Bingo.”

Tora tucked the gun back into his briefs, keeping the grip on the outside of his shirt as he shrugged the duffel bag onto the pavement. “Keep a fuckin’ eye out,” he said stepping up to the metal door and flipping up the two latches above the handles, “and _think_ first, react second,” he added. Fuck if he needed to deal with more than just the one cleanup today. Tora gripped both handles and pulled toward him, releasing the locking mechanisms that ran vertically up the right door. He pulled it open, immediately met with a chill, the buzz of the refrigeration unit that had been dampened from where they stood outside the metal walls, rushed out at them as Tora stepped into the container.

Tora’s hands shook slightly, so he gripped them together in one large fist, his shoulders bunching up around his ears. A shudder ran down his spine—he tried to convince himself it was from the sudden drop in temperature. The man was bound in the corner where Tora had left him the week before. The floor of the container was damp around the body and he could see the pants still hadn’t dried from where the man’d pissed himself. He clenched his jaw against the idea of the reefer as a cage, a cage of his making, feeling his breathing start to quicken. Shit, he needed to get the fuck out of this damn box. Tora bent down, tugging up his sleeves before he grabbed hold of the man by one arm, dragging him back over to the open door where he could see Claude standing in the sunlight, his head turning back and forth every couple of seconds. Holy shit, could he look any fuckin’ shadier?

“Oi,” Tora said low over the noise of the cooling unit, “stop that shit. Ya look fuckin’ guilty.”

Claude turned to look at him, taking in the large figure being dragged toward him. “Fuuuuck,” he breathed. “How the hell are we supposed to get him back? He’s huge.”

Tora rolled his eyes, “yeah, woulda been fuckin’ helpful to know where we were fuckin’ going, wouldn’t it.” He took a deep breath, could feel the tremors starting again in his hands. He dropped the man’s arm to the metal and suppressed a grimace at the harsh thud as the knuckles of the hand hit the floor, the arm coming to rest at an unnatural angle. “Need ya to stay fuckin’ put,” Tora said, gesturing toward the duffel bag at Claude’s feet as he stepped back into the light. “Gonna bring the car ‘round. Start working on wrappin’ him up. Every inch covered, got it?” he growled.

Claude frowned—he’d probably thought Tora’d be doing the worst of the grunt work, _no way in hell_ —but nodded quickly as he reached inside his jacket to holster his gun. Tora jogged back over to the car, his back twinging from the weight of the man he’d just dragged. When he’d reached the place he parked, he quickly removed his gloves, keeping them gripped in one hand as he opened the door with his other. He climbed in the car, turning the key in the ignition before he paused. _Fuck_. It was the same guy, not a coincidence. Vince’d said it was to send a message—the Ninedaggers general for…well, something. Who the fuck knew with Vincent. But why the fuck hadn’t the other clan taken their dead? Unless it hadn’t been the message Vince thought he’d been sending. If the guy’d been on the outs with Ninedaggers, too…either way, though, the man was fuckin’ dead. Had pissed himself inside a loud, dark box. Tora quickly reached into his pocket, withdrawing a cigarette and putting it shakily between his lips, watching his hands tremble as he lit the thing. Fuck. He needed a fuckin’ minute.

He leaned his head back against the seat, staring up at the ceiling of the car, the dent pushing toward him. He reached an arm up, placing his palm against the opposite side of the thin barrier where he’d pressed just last night. How many hours ago had that been? And Poppy’s body had lain right above where he sat now. Her body…Tora tried to swallow the bile, but quickly turned, tossing the cigarette into the ashtray and grabbing the takeout bag they’d left in the backseat as his body heaved, wrenching bitter fluid from deep within along with bits of the gift Poppy had made him. His stomach acid burned against the back of his throat, his tongue. He swallowed, trying not to imagine Poppy in place of the body Claude was wrapping across the yard, tears stinging his eyes. _Get a fuckin’ grip_. He spit into the bag once, trying to expel the thick strings of saliva at the back of his mouth, before he tied it up, shoving it onto the floor of the backseat. No need for Claude to see that shit. Tora pulled out his phone, wiping his mouth on the back of his other hand, shooting a text off to Damien before he pressed lightly on the gas, inching the car from between the containers until he was pulling up next to the open one a few moments later. He checked the message he’d gotten, satisfied with his man’s update. Nothin’ out of the ordinary back at Poppy’s.

Claude glanced at him from where he was crouched over the body, waving Tora over with a jerk of his head. It didn’t take long to load the body into his trunk, Tora transferring the duffel bag back inside the tire well before easily depositing the body over the false floor. He considered a moment, then grabbed his go-bag from the corner, deciding to toss it in the back seat instead.

They’d been on the road for a couple minutes when Tora said, “can ya handle the dump on ya own? Got somethin’ I gotta take of before night.”

Claude looked over at Tora, sighing, “you know Martin asked you to help cause he didn’t think me and Scharch could move it on our own.”

“Bullshit.” Vincent wanted him punished. This was to piss Tora off, and Claude fuckin’ knew it. He heard the fucker huff from beside him. “I’m not asking,” he clarified. “Handle it.”

They sat in a tense silence, Claude stewing in his own thoughts and tapping away on his phone as Tora repeated the texts from Goliath on a loop in his head. It’d be a long drive to Moonbright and back, and he’d want to stop at his apartment before heading to Poppy’s. Needed to wash his deeds down the drain, a routine he’d started out of precaution but had continued even for bloodless jobs like this, for his own mental self-preservation.

Tora pulled up outside the shithole Claude called home—looked about the same as his own, if a little less concrete. Claude opened the trunk of his car and watched as Tora transferred the body, not saying anything as they each slammed their trunks closed, Tora first replacing the gloves in the duffel. “If this blows back, it’s ya fuckin’ head,” Tora growled at him.

Claude tensed his jaw, but bit out, “yeah.”

As they each circled back to their respective driver’s seats, Claude motioned toward the top of Tora’s car. “Hey Big Bro,” he said, waiting until Tora glanced over at him, one foot already planted in the car. “The fuck happened to your roof?”

Tora kept his face schooled in a glare as he shook his head once, ducking into the car and quickly peeling out of the lot. Only after he could no longer see Claude’s building did the smile worm its way across his face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you thank you thank you for reading this story and for your sweet comments—they keep me going!
> 
> Spent arguably too much time researching the way shipping containers are labeled and doing math (!?!?) cause turns out it's pretty damn complicated lmao
> 
> Ch. 15: Those texts are burning a hole in Tora’s pocket…


	15. Sweet shit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Our boy goes to Moonbright, and—even miles from the city—he feels Poppy’s pull.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really hope you like this chapter as much as I do 💗💗 thank you for all your comments, I’m really enjoying this fic and it makes me smile to know you are too
> 
> Now that this fic has hit 100k words I am realizing how much it has basically taken over every spare moment of my life when I’m not working. There’s still so much left to happen that I’ve got planned for these two, so I’m going to try a process that’s a little more sustainable than the daily updates. So I just wanna give you a heads up: my goal is no longer to post daily (not saying there won’t be times when I get carried away, though haha). In general, you can expect to see updates a couple times a week. 
> 
> So without further ado, here’s an extraaaaaa long one that I hope makes up for it 😘😘
> 
> As always, characters belong to the real MVP Lilydusk, brilliant creator of Midnight Poppy Land. Eternal gratitude to you, Lily—truly. What a world you’ve created. Support her on Patreon! https://www.patreon.com/lilydusk
> 
> Credit: line of dialogue featured from MPL ep. 55—you’ll know the one (lol peep Tora’s eye roll)

**Chapter 15**

Tora’s phone buzzed as he passed the sign announcing the exit for Moonbright. He glanced down at the device where it rested in the center console then back at the road—he should really check it soon for a number of reasons. Claude could’ve fucked up the drop—wouldn’t that be fan-fuckin’-tastic—or maybe Goliath had sent another message, though his phone was probably dead by now if his last text had been accurate. Worse, though, it could be an update from Damien on Poppy’s building. Silence was good, but if Damien’d felt the need to text him when he knew he was on a job, it probably meant some kind of clan activity. At that thought, he slowed, pulling off onto the shoulder and grabbing up the device. His face split into a grin as he read the message.

@Bobby: [image]

@Bobby: What do you think?

He tapped the image to download it and waited as the little circle loaded slower than usual. Fuck, his service was terrible out here. It’d been a while since he’d ventured to the town that lay miles from the city. Not since…well, not since the one time he’d attempted to go back and find her, desperate to convince himself she hadn’t been a figment of his imagination, that the inner good the little girl on the bike had seen in him when they were kids actually existed. It felt strange to be headed back toward his past, stranger at the thought that his Bobby might be connected in some way. And shit, he thought, she _was_ connected, even if she wasn’t the strawberry girl.

He hadn’t been able to stop the exhale from escaping his lips at seeing evidence that Bobby was safe, was texting him an image of…he smiled as it appeared on his screen: the little spikey plant he’d given her nestled on the shelf in her bathroom between the other plants that looked similarly short and colorful.

@Tora: matches ya shower

He smiled thinking back to the curtain in her bathroom with the grinning plants in cowboy hats. His gift to her fit right in. He waited as her text bubbles appeared.

@Bobby: That’s what I thought!

He laughed, leaning his head back against the seat. Shit, this woman. If he had time, maybe he’d stop and pick her up something sweet. She’d said she wanted him to come over, right? He hadn’t made that up? His thumbs hesitated over the screen before he sent her another text, waiting anxiously for her response, the fingers of his right hand coming up to fiddle with the strawberry in his hair absent-mindedly. Looking through the windshield, he swallowed. On either side of the car, golden fields sprawled for what seemed like miles, a dark, hazy tree line in the distance on his left. His mouth went dry, his breath suddenly ragged against the sound of the wind from his open window, the hum of insects hidden in the fields, the whoosh of the tall stalks of grass—if a place like this were home, if this drive could simply be a commute back from a normal job in the city…A yellow house with white flowers—she missed her garden, he remembered. Growing things from the earth, she’d said. His eyes skimmed over the golden fields where the tops of the fluffy grass met the wide expanse of bright blue sky. Things grew here, even along the cracks in the pavement along the edges of the highway where he could see tiny flowers blooming. Could _he_ grow things? He should ask Poppy to show him, he thought. Maybe she’d like that. Maybe _he’d_ like that. The phone buzzed in his hand and he quickly unlocked it.

@Tora: my pants all dry sweetheart?

@Bobby: I don’t know, you tell me.

His eyebrows shot up— _fuckin’ feisty_ —and he watched as another text appeared.

@Bobby: But yes, they are. Are you still coming by later?

He grinned, sent her a quick affirmative, glancing in the rearview as he pulled back onto the road, gunning it toward the Moonbright exit. Fuckin’ Goliath, Tora wanted nothing more than to book it back to Poppy’s apartment—maybe they could pick up where they’d left off that morning. Or not, he didn’t care, just wanted to be in her light. But his fuckin’ brother had dug himself into a hole again and needed Tora to pull him out. If the little shit was still alive, Tora was gonna kill him.

*

Tora checked the messages from the unknown number again, pulling up beside the train station before tucking his phone into his pocket. He glanced around the empty lot—it seemed quiet enough. No obvious signs of clan activity. Still, Tora knew shit wasn’t always as it seemed. He reached over toward the passenger seat where he’d stashed his gun after leaving Claude. Fuck, he really hoped he wouldn’t need it, but fuck if he wasn’t gonna err on the side of caution. Better safe than sorry.

He climbed from the car, one hand on the roof as he closed the door behind him, the tips of his fingers lightly skimming the dent before he took off toward the main building. The text had said he’d be by the signboard—was that inside or outside? He glanced at the text—Goliath had said outside, but Tora didn’t see any fuckin’ signs, besides the one announcing the name of the station. Tora could see there were two platforms on one side of the building, a tall staircase that towered from one side to the other, bridging the gap so passengers could transfer between the outbound and inbound sides of the tracks. There were signs that lined the platforms, but they were all small—blinking the time at him in orange numbers. Those couldn’t’ve been what Goliath had been talkin’ about, right? There were so many of them and the text had made it sound like there was only one. A signboard. Tora stepped through the archway that led into the building, which was really just a glorified shelter against the elements, he realized. There were no doors, just wide entryways that led out onto the platforms and back into the lot behind him. Tora glanced around, considering whether he should try calling the number before deciding against it. It could be a trap but even if it wasn’t, he wanted to be able to deny that he’d ever received the messages. A reply from him could throw a wrench in that contingency and there was no way he was sacrificing his footing when it came to Vincent, especially when the man was out for blood—his own. Tora knew where he stood—a trained dog, a monster on a leash. Sure, Vincent would keep him around as long as he was useful, but if push came to shove, Tora didn’t doubt for a second the man wouldn’t hesitate to put him down.

There weren’t that many people waiting, Tora noticed. On the wall farthest from him, he saw a sign for ticketing, a blonde bored-looking woman sat behind the glass window, scrolling on her phone. For some reason, no one had seemed to notice him as Tora made his way toward the wall between the two platform exits where he saw a large digital sign listing all the inbound and outbound trains for the day. _That must be fuckin’ it_ , he thought as he moved silently toward the prominent display. Save for some wooden benches scattered in haphazard rows, there was really no furniture in the room, no place for a blue-haired little shit to hide. Tora huffed then pinched the bridge of his nose. _Shit_. In the time it’d taken to do Martin’s fuckin’ errand, he’d lost precious hours on the lead that had come to him while he was sleeping. He listened as a bell began to sound from out on the tracks, watched as a train pulled up moments later. Only a handful of people got on, moving quickly from their seats inside the shelter to climb aboard. He glanced back over at the ticketing counter where he noticed the woman watching him. _Fuck_ , so much for going unnoticed. He figured that, now that she’d made eye contact, he might as well ask her if she’d happened to see his piece of shit brother.

As Tora walked toward the window, the woman shifted in the narrow office behind the glass, fiddling with papers, attempting to seem busy and unbothered by the man quickly approaching her whom she kept shooting looks toward when she thought he wasn’t looking. When he’d reached the desk, he leaned down, tapping the glass to get her attention, since she’d turned from him to press some buttons on the printer behind her. _The fuck she doin’?_

“Oh!” she feigned surprise, smiling widely at him, “what can I do for you, sir?” she practically purred through the little hole in the window, perching her hands on the counter and leaning forward so the neck of her shirt dipped down.

Tora repressed the urge to roll his eyes—he needed her cooperation. “I was wonderin’ if ya could help me out,” he said quietly, glancing over his shoulder as he leaned on his forearms close to the glass. He looked up at her, “was supposed to pick up my friend here earlier today—slim guy, blue hair, ugly tattoo on his hand—but my car broke down. I don’t see him around anywhere. D’ya remember seein’ him? Probably woulda been runnin’ around like a chicken with his head cut off, knowin’ him.” He bit his bottom lip as he waited for her response, _please let that fucker be close by_. He really didn’t want to spend his night chasin’ the little shit down.

She tilted her head, thinking. “You know, I don’t remember anyone matching that description, but stuff like that happens all the time—usually people head to the bus station. It’s just down the street,” she said, pointing toward the exit back by the parking lot, “buuuut,” she swiveled in her seat until she was pointing toward the wall behind her, “there’s a shortcut through the trees over there that the commuters who don’t drive usually take.”

Tora nodded once, grunting his thanks as he turned around.

“Oh, sir?” he glanced back, knowing what she was about to ask. He really didn’t have time to be writin’ down the number to Fred’s sausage shop right now, though. The look she saw on his face must’ve told her as much, because her question died in her throat as she mouthed, “never mind.”

Tora turned, striding back toward the exit, quickly finding the path through the trees that she’d mentioned. Goliath more than likely would’ve been on foot if he was texting Tora. Contacting his older brother was a last-ditch effort—they both fuckin’ knew it. And if the man was down to his last card, there was no way he had any resources left, including a fuckin’ vehicle. Despite the late hour, the sun was still in the sky, but as Tora made his way through the trees, the light dimmed, filtered through the heavy canopy above him. He came to a clearing where the path seemed to fork. One side led to the bus station which he could see faintly through the trees as they thinned around the parking lot. As he turned to follow the path, a flash of red caught his eye to his right down the other side of the fork.

Tora hesitated for a moment before turning toward the station—the likelihood that Goliath had wandered away from an obvious escape route was slim. As he stepped from the path, Tora noted the parking lot was deserted, and to call this a station was generous. Unlike the lot he’d just come from, there wasn’t even a building, not even a fuckin’ place to piss. A glass shelter stood along a long strip of sidewalk where a sign hung that listed the departure schedule. _Fuck_ , this was sure as shit a dead end. And hell, Goliath had never been great at straight up thievin’—sleight of hand and spinnin’ bullshit had always been his specialty—but who was to say whether the man had simply jacked a car from either of the lots? Desperate times and all. Tora swept his gaze over the open area a couple more times searching for cameras, for anything that might give him a lead on his shit-for-brains brother. Nothing. He let out a frustrated sigh, reaching for his smokes with one hand while running his other through his hair when his fingers hit the strawberry. He took a deep breath, closing his eyes for a moment before he turned back toward the path.

Movement—a peek of red again. Tora paused, considering. He’d made the damn drive, might as well pursue any possible lead. He gingerly pushed aside the growth that had covered some of the path, slowly making his way toward the edge of a field where the trees broke away in an imperfect circle. Tora couldn’t stop the exhale from his lips as he took in the sprawl of red flowers. The setting sun seemed to dance on the breeze, lighting the petals of the poppies alight so it looked as though the field were burning. He crouched, acutely aware of the shadows of the trees along the field and how vulnerable he was in this position at the edge of the poppies. Anyone could see him, but Tora couldn’t bring himself to move for several minutes as he listened to the flowers rustle in the breeze. He reached a hand out, skimming his palm across the tops of the flowers closest to him, closing his eyes briefly. He wondered if anyone had shown them love before, was sure if Bobby had ever been here, she probably had. His fingers pinched around one of the stems before he stopped himself, remembering the older woman at the flower shop, _couldn’t bring myself to trim these ones_. He reached into his pocket instead, pulling out his phone and snapping a picture of the field from where he crouched. The image looked like he’d stumbled upon a special place where only flowers blanketed the earth. He stood then, the desire to return to her, the warmth of her apartment, her arms, nearly overwhelming.

As he made his way back into the clearing where the path forked—one way to the train station and one way to the bus, he noticed a section of bushes that had been tamped down, as though trampled by someone in a hurry. Someone being chased? He moved quickly toward the wreckage of the shrubs, brushing his hands gently over the broken branches, the leaves scattered atop the bramble as he passed. From a half-crouched position, he lifted one leg carefully over the plants, taking care not to tamp down any more of the growth, his gaze falling on a backpack, stained with what looked to be blood. Tora quickly glanced around—he didn’t see anyone in the trees, but that didn’t mean shit. Anyone could be watching him. He moved slowly toward the bag, crouching lower as he lifted the edge, peering inside. _Shit_ , he thought. The contents looked very well like they could belong to his brother—a fuckin’ mess. He picked it up, opening the top further, eyes glancing up and around him every couple seconds. It was chaos inside—maybe from running, but if it did belong to Goliath, it was more likely just the natural state of the bag. He reached a hand in, drawing out a handful of mismatched playing cards, some uncashed chips. _Fuck,_ no way this wasn’t his kid brother’s. Tora rifled through the loose papers. No notebook. He sat back on his heels thinking for a moment. If the bag was here, it probably meant Goliath had dropped it in haste, especially when combined with the way the bushes on the other side of the small clearing were also broken through. The man had left quite the fuckin’ trail, no wonder he was in trouble.

Tora slung the backpack over one shoulder, carefully stepping further down the path Goliath had presumably crashed through until the trail of destruction ran cold, leading out onto a road. He scanned the other side looking for more broken bushes but didn’t see anything unusual. Tora glanced up and down the road—just one lane on each side, but that gave his brother two directions he could have traveled… _and_ , he realized with a groan, that was assuming Goliath had been running _toward_ the road and not fleeing from it. He again considered texting the number and had his hand on his back pocket before he thought better of it. Tora glanced at the sky—the sun had fallen lower, closer to the horizon and he could hear the crickets beginning to chirp as dusk quickly approached. He still needed to get back to his apartment and shower before he could head over to Poppy’s. He let out a sigh, what a fuckin’ day.

Tora silently made his way back up the path, the trees falling into shadow as the light of day dimmed. When he finally made his way back to the train station, the place was completely deserted—even the interior of the shelter was dark. He strode to his car, quickly popping the trunk and shoving the backpack beside the duffel bag in the tire well before slamming it closed and pulling out his phone. He swallowed tightly as he quickly texted an update to Vincent—a partly true version of his progress on the notebook: he’d followed a lead beyond the city after Martin’s job, but it’d turned out to be a dead end. Tora didn’t include the texts from the unknown number, the name of the town, or the fact that he _had_ found something. He could hear Joe’s voice in his head telling him _a lie by omission is still a lie_ , but fuck, he really thought Joe would back him up on this one if he were around. It took a few seconds for the message to go through, but a couple moments later, he saw the status change to read. He waited a minute, knowing if he didn’t receive a text back now, he wouldn’t have to worry about receiving one later that night either. Tora could hear his heart pounding in his throat as he held his breath. Finally, he carefully tucked the phone back in his pocket, climbing into the car and replacing the gun under the seat beside him. He let out a shaky exhale, his hand coming up to skim the strawberry in his hair. He felt his phone buzz between the seat and his ass and Tora’s jaw clenched reflexively. _Shit_ , he’d really thought he’d get to see her tonight, had let himself hope. He leaned his head back against the seat as he lifted his hips, fishing out his phone from his back pocket again.

@Bobby: You like seafood, right?

Relief cut through his chest and he laughed in the silence of his car, alone in the middle of an empty parking lot, miles from the city, save for this one thread connecting him to the person who was quickly growing to mean the most to him. He looked out the windshield of the car up at the sky where stars had begun to glint down as the sky deepened. Shit, was she _already_ the most important person to him? It’d only been a week.

@Tora: nah hated all that sushi last night

They’d eaten so much, hell, he’d eaten it from her fuckin’ fingers, she couldn’t have forgotten. He smirked, considering the possibility that this was her way of making sure he was still coming over.

@Bobby: 🙄

Tora laughed, turning the key in the ignition and throwing on his lights as he watched her text bubbles appear again.

@Bobby: Well, then you’re going to hate dinner.

He bit the inside of his mouth as he grinned stupidly down at his phone. If anyone saw him right now, they’d never believe that he was the fearsome Tiger of Ares Street. He smiled wider at the thought as he typed back.

@Tora: can’t wait sweetheart

*

Tora pulled up to his building, parking horizontally across two spots. He was leaving soon anyway, he told himself. He was intent on showering quickly and heading back to Poppy’s—the sooner the better. Reaching into the backseat, he grabbed his go-bag and the tied-up takeout bag that held their empty boxes, now covered in sick. He rounded the car, glancing around the lot and up at the windows of the dark building before he popped the trunk, quickly removing Goliath’s backpack and striding toward the steps. As he passed a trash can outside the building, he shoved the takeout into the bin before running up the flights, ignoring the twinge in his back at each impact of his foot as he rushed toward his door, making quick work of the lock and pushing into the drab room. As he locked the door behind him, the gold foil of the third condom wrapper glinted up at him from the console where he’d left it the night before. He bit back a groan of embarrassment—at least he hadn’t had _three_ of the fuckin’ things in his pocket when Poppy’d found them. He glared at it, “ya stayin’ right there,” he growled as he toed off his still-damp shoes. Shit, they stunk—and they’d been a new fuckin’ pair. Still, he couldn’t really bring himself to care that much, feeling the frustration slide off him as he remembered the look of his large sneakers pooling water at her front door, kicked off beside her tiny shoes. He wondered briefly if the yellow house had had a pile of shoes by the front door as he’d stood outside waiting for the girl to return.

He strode down the hallway to the room that contained the untouched bed, pushed up against the corner without a frame. He’d thought that a mattress on the floor might work, allow him to fall asleep, relax, do the other things that people typically did in the privacy of their bedrooms. But the only night he’d tried had turned him off from the idea. He’d woken from a nightmare— _that_ nightmare—tangled in the sheets and unable to free himself, rolling to the floor as waves of panic incapacitated his ability to move at all. He’d lain in a cold sweat, crumpled, a shell of himself, the pants he’d worn to bed damp with fear. Never again, he’d decided, preferring to continue his habit of sleeping on the couch, one leg planted on the floor and gun tucked out of sight beneath the worn piece of furniture where he rested his head facing the front door of the apartment. He walked to the closet in the corner next to the bed, opening the door and standing on a crate he kept tucked away at the back, pressing his fingers against the ceiling panel until it lifted.

The bag was halfway to being hidden before Tora paused. He should look closer at the contents now that he was alone, safe in the apartment only Quincey knew the location of. He sighed, stepping back down and moving to sit on the bed. He pulled out the stack of loose-leaf papers, turning them over in his hands as he tried to make sense of the text. There were names, locations, descriptions of events—crimes, he realized. An incomplete accounting of the inner workings of the clans and their leaders. Vincent’s name flashed at him on nearly every page. Many of the documents were dated, seeming to go back years. _Fuck_ , whoever’d been compiling this shit had been at it a while—it couldn’t be all Goliath’s doing. Maybe he really _had_ just gotten mixed up in shit he hadn’t understood until he was in over his head. Wouldn’t be the first time. 

Tora quickly shuffled the papers back into the bag, his brow furrowed as his finger traced one of the splotches of blood, _Goliath’s?_ The man was a backstabbing little shit, for sure, but Tora couldn’t help but worry about what might have happened to him. If he texted again, Tora decided, he’d drop whatever he was doing to meet him. Anything to stay a step ahead of Vincent, there was no room for error, especially if the boss was feeling backed into a corner. Tora stood on the crate again, stashing the bag and replacing the ceiling tile. He’d go through the documents more thoroughly that week, try putting them in order by date. Maybe he could find a pattern—there seemed to be gap in years, but with Goliath’s fuckin’ mess it was difficult to tell.

He shucked off the rest of his clothes, tossing them at the door of the closet before padding to the bathroom where he quickly scrubbed off. It’d become a ritual for him following the close of every job, had started out of necessity, seemingly endless scrubbing to scour the blood from the cracks in his skin, but now—even after assignments like this that left him visibly uncontaminated—he needed to cleanse the job from his skin in scalding water, as hot as he could stand it with the old back injury. Tora watched his skin redden under the heat of the water as he let it stream down his body, the ink of his tattoos darkening, as he watched the day circle the drain. He was so fuckin’ tired of this shit, hadn’t allowed himself to imagine a life outside of it, but now, fuck. He thought back to the side of the highway, Bobby’s texts. _You like seafood, right?_ He cut the water, quickly toweling off and glancing at his reflection in the mirror above the sink. As he turned his head, he ran his fingers over his neck, inspecting the wounds in the mirror. Mostly healed, bright new skin dotting across the crest. _Good riddance_.

He made his way back down the hall to the bedroom, tossing the towel over the door and quickly getting dressed—the dark concrete walls of the room reminded him too much of the fuckin’ reefer. He avoided looking at the bare corner of the room where his guitar rested, tried to push the image of the man bound, wet, crumpled from his mind. After he’d pulled on jeans and a t-shirt, his hand skimmed over the front of a dark sweatshirt that had a dinosaur on the front. _Pfft,_ Bobby’d like it, he thought as he pulled it on, retying his hair back with her strawberry before pulling a handful of other t-shirts and pants from his chest of drawers. It was nice, he realized, a nice change of pace for his go-bag to be packed for comfort rather than survival. If he was gonna be stayin’ at her place, he wanted more options than one pair of joggers, hoping to avoid a repeat of having to walk out of her place with cum on his crotch like a fuckin’ teenager. He rolled his eyes thinking back to it as he moved back to the front room, go-bag slung across his shoulder and fresh pair of sneakers in hand, scanning the room for anything else he might need. His gaze landed on the bottle of wine and he reached out to grab it before stopping himself—maybe some other time.

Tora made his way back down to his car quickly, shooting off a text to Poppy to let her know he was on his way. As he pulled out of the lot and back onto the road to her place, Tora couldn’t stop thinking about her, the way she’d welcomed him into her life so completely, readily. She was cooking for him, hell, had _already_ cooked for him. As he passed the grocery store close to her apartment, he quickly pulled a U-turn, determined to surprise her with something. He couldn’t cook for shit, but he knew she liked sweet shit, he thought as he walked into the store for the second time in less than twenty-four hours, pausing to glance up at the streetlamp, remembering the feel of her body against his in the rain. Yeah, sweet shit.

*

As Tora approached Poppy’s building, he recognized Damien’s car pulled off to the side of the road, the roof sheltered by an overhang of untrimmed trees and foliage. He pulled up behind him, killing the lights and stepping from his own car to talk to his men. Each of their windows in the car was rolled down, and Tora could see a balled-up takeout bag wedged up on the dash between where Damien sat in the driver’s seat, one hand up behind his pink hair, and where Bryan lounged beside him, foot propped on the edge of the seat, his knee jutting out against the passenger window.

“Yo, Big Bro, what’s cookin’?” Damien lifted his elbow from the window ledge, transferring the phone he’d been twirling to his other hand and reaching a fist through the window, lightly pounding it against his boss’s as Tora leaned down against the car, forearms pressing against the top of the door. He nodded toward Bryan who returned the greeting, resting his elbow on his knee and shifting so his body faced the building behind Tora. He readjusted the backwards cap on his head, tufts of silver hair peeking out the bottom—Tora smiled to himself. The kids reminded him of when he’d been younger, dying his hair every few months to a different color, following orders without needing to worry about the top-level decisions pulling the strings of the clan. Course, he thought, these two knuckleheads had escaped the torture of the big boss—there was a lightheartedness about them Tora didn’t think he’d ever possessed.

“Any activity?” he asked Damien, his voice low. Though they were the only ones on the street, he was very aware of the darkness of the tree line behind Bryan’s silhouette and of the many windows that peppered Poppy’s building. Too many opportunities for someone to see them for Tora to be able to relax.

“Nothing, Big Bro. From Balthuman or Ninedaggers—no one’s been out here except us. Haven’t heard back from Gyu yet re: security—”

“—but he said he was in back-to-back shifts all day, so probably just hasn’t checked his phone yet,” Bryan finished.

Tora nodded. “Follow up with him.” He gestured toward the security booth, “that fucker make an appearance?”

The two men laughed, shaking the car under Tora’s arms. “You could say that,” Damien said soberly, catching the look on his boss’s face. As much as Tora appreciated them staking out the building all day, this was the last thing standing between him and Bobby. He just needed a fuckin’ update.

After a second, Tora raised his eyebrows, “and?”

“Saw some chick with him—” Damien started.

Bryan interrupted, “—let’s just say, he was a little distracted—”

“—there was a good chunk of time we definitely could’ve scaled the fence, hell, even made it into one of the units, and he wouldn’t’ve known shit.”

Tora watched as they bumped elbows, trying to hold back their laughter. He clenched his jaw, glancing at the booth. So, the fucker wasn’t just lazy, he was also dickin’ around, not doin’ his one fuckin’ job.

“Hey, Big Bro,” Bryan said, leaning down to look up at him more closely, “can see that vein poppin’. You good?”

Tora grunted, rapping his fist on the roof once as he stood. “Head home, catch some sleep. Post up here tomorrow.” He turned to walk back to his car, pausing when Bryan called out to him.

“Yo, Big Bro—we did see one other thing.” Tora quickly turned back to them, ducking down to peer into the car, one elbow resting against the lip of the window. He raised his eyebrows. “See that balcony?” Bryan pointed up and Tora looked back at the building, trying to follow his finger.

“Which fuckin’ one?”

“One with the plants and shit, top floor.”

Tora’s mouth ran dry, cold sweat pricking the back of his neck as he stared at the open balcony door, the soft glow of the hanging lights spilling out into the air where the dusk met the night. Yeah, he knew the one. He turned back to Bryan, unable to choke out his question.

“Real fuckin’ cutie up there, Big Bro.” The silent laughs Bryan shared with Damien didn’t register at first. She was safe. There was nothing wrong. She was safe. Shit, Tora could almost laugh, his fingers clenched around the lip of the window where he’d leaned into the car, jaw tight and jutted forward. Could also strangle them, these fuckin’ kids. Anger, fear, relief warred up his throat as he tried to keep his face neutral, apparently failing spectacularly as both Damien and Bryan’s eyes widened, both men reflexively shrinking back into their seats. “J-just jokin’, Big Bro,” Bryan muttered as Damien nodded. “She’s probably got a boyfriend anyway, was on the phone a lot, pacin’ and shit.” He readjusted his hat nervously, foot leaving the seat as he sat up straighter. “My sister only does that when she’s arguin’ with hers…” he trailed off.

 _The fuck? On the phone…pacin’ and shit…boyfriend?_ Tora stood, unable to keep the frown from pulling at his face. “Head out, get some sleep. Be back at first light,” he repeated as he walked back to his car. He climbed into the driver’s seat and waited until Damien had reached the end of the road, taking a right at the intersection, before he started the car again, pulling up slowly to the gate keypad. Poppy had been pacing? On the phone—was she worried about something? Maybe it was work? He should really call Quincey and set up that meeting—she’d said she was under a deadline to get a contract with Noyouko. Last he checked, the Quincess hadn’t texted him back…he’d need another push. What if it hadn’t been work, though? Tora punched in the gate code, lost in thought as it slid open, the sound of metal cutting through his daze. Fuck, that thing was loud as shit.

Tora parked, trying this time to squeeze between the lines, huffing in frustration when he saw he’d still managed to end up crooked. Fuck, maybe she was right—was he a bad driver? Nah, just had more important things on his mind. He reached into the back, grabbing the two bags before heading over to the stairs as he locked his car. He glanced up at her balcony where he could see the warm light like a haze against the deepening sky. Poppy appeared at the edge, holding a container up to the plants along the railing, and when she saw him, he could see her beam from five floors down. _Fuckin’ adorable_ , he thought, as she waved him up. 

When he was a couple paces from her door, she pulled it open, smiling up at him as she stepped aside so he could enter. Before he could drop his bags or turn to close the door, her hands had slipped up around his neck, pulling his lips down to hers as she reached up on her tiptoes. He reached a hand out to push the door shut, sliding the deadbolt blindly as he wrapped his other arm around her waist. He circled her, lifting her up to his chest as she kissed him, her arms moving to wrap around his neck as he bent his head back for her, his hands circling his wrists to support her weight where she rested against his forearms. Holy shit, he’d missed her. It’d been less than a day and he could feel something in his chest sliding back into place at her embrace. He let her pull away from his lips as she raised her head to look at him.

“So, _this_ is what it’s like to be six feet and three inches above the ground,” she turned her head just shy of the ceiling, gazing around her apartment in mock fascination. “The air’s so much fresher this high up. I’m so jealous.”

Tora rolled his eyes, “yeah, yeah. Ya fuckin’ feisty, ya know that?” he said as he loosened his arms, letting her slide back down the length of his body until her bare feet touched the floor. Her shirt had ridden up in the process, and as Poppy looked down to readjust, Tora quickly glanced away, swallowing thickly as he dropped his bag to the ground, toeing off his shoes before he turned to hand her the bag from the store.

She smiled, reaching for the handles where her fingers skimmed against his. “What’s this?” she asked, glancing up at him in excitement as she stuck an arm into the bag.

“Wasn’t sure what kind ya’d like, so I got ya a couple different ones,” he watched as her head shot back up to look at him. “Figured we could test ‘em out.”

“How’d you know,” the question left her mouth in a rush as she hurried over to the kitchen, practically knocking into the couch in her excitement.

“ _Pfft, pfft,_ for real, Bobby?” he followed her at a much more controlled pace, leaning against the archway beside her fridge. “I got eyes,” he said, glancing over at the cake sitting beneath a plastic dome on her counter, “and ya clearly got a sweet tooth the size of—” She huffed at him and he broke into a laugh. “What, ya gonna deny that, sweetheart?”

She glanced over her shoulder at him as she stacked the mini containers of ice cream against the counter, trying to school her face into a glare but unable to keep the smile from creeping back up her face as she met his eyes. “Told you, most important food group,” she said, turning back to inspect the flavors he’d selected, folding the bag and placing it on the counter. “I’m just giving my body what it needs,” she said. “Oh! You got stra—”

“Oh, yeah, Bobby?” Tora had moved silently behind her, his hands coming to rest on the dips in her hips, pulling her back against his waist lightly as she let out a soft _oh_ , “and what does your body need?” he asked rubbing his thumbs along the strip of skin peeking out over the elastic band of her shorts and dipping his head so that his breath whispered against the hair beside her ear. He could feel his cock twitch in his jeans, knew Poppy would probably feel it, too. Yesterday, he would have tried to hide it, hell—he _had_ tried to hide it. But after what they’d shared earlier that morning? She had to know he wanted her by now, had to know what she did to him.

He could hear the smile in her voice as she replied, “I was _talking_ about the ice cream…” He smirked, releasing her and turning out so that he leaned against the counter beside her, folding his arms across his chest as he watched her inspect the labels. “Dinner’s almost ready,” she said, glancing up at him.

“Oh yeah? What’s on the menu, Bobby?” He waited until she looked back up at him before he cocked an eyebrow, dragging his eyes down to her thighs and back up again, enjoying the way her blush blossomed across her cheeks and down between the V of her tank top. Fuck, he really wanted to see how far down it could spread—he had a feeling his eyes hadn’t been playing tricks on him in the car last night when he could practically see her flush through her dress. “Anything I’d like?”

“I guess you’ll just have to wait and see,” she said before turning to the freezer with a handful of the little containers and placing them carefully in the door. Tora had meant to help her put them away, but he found he was rooted to the spot, arms frozen across his chest, his heart hammering at the possibility threaded through her words. Did she know what she was saying? He had his answer a moment later when she turned back from the freezer to collect the rest of the containers from the counter, glancing up at him with a smirk. Goddamn. _Fuckin’ feisty little woman_.

“What if I can’t wait,” he said, swallowing as she turned to meet his gaze. He knew his hunger for her was evident on his face, and if she couldn’t see that, then all she’d have to do was glance down. But something had shifted. She looked uncertain, fuck, he hadn’t actually meant he _couldn’t_ wait. _Jesus. Choose ya words better, ya dumb fuck_. “Hey,” he said, uncrossing his arms and reaching a hand out to hold her wrist, his fingers slipping down until they wrapped around her fingers lightly. “Just teasin’, Bobby. All the time, remember?” She nodded at him and smiled, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes.

Her phone buzzed on the counter behind him and he saw something dark flash over her face as she pulled her hand from his, reaching quickly past him to grab the device. She glanced at the screen quickly before making to shove it in her back pocket, but it slid straight over her ass and onto the floor on account of the fact that her shorts didn’t have back pockets. Tora would’ve laughed if he hadn’t been thinking about Bryan’s words and the way Poppy’s demeanor had changed so suddenly. Sure, he’d fucked up whatever flirty thing had passed between them moments ago, but it hadn’t been… _this_. Poppy bent down to the floor, retrieving her phone with one hand while tugging on the V of her tank top with the other before she roughly shoved the device down her shirt where it disappeared against her tits. _Holy shit_ , even as Tora tried to focus on the idea of Poppy being worried or upset by something, he couldn’t help his attention shifting to the idea of her phone nestled against her bare chest.

“Tora,” she said, pulling him from his thoughts as he quickly closed his mouth and brought his eyes up to her face. Luckily, she had turned her own attention to the stove, stirring something in a pot and not noticing the way he’d been ogling her. “Could you set the table? Chopsticks and spoons are in that drawer,” she said gesturing with a nod of her head, “and there’s still some juice in the fridge, bottom shelf.”

He quickly turned, retrieving the items she’d requested, shaking his head lightly at the amount of chocolate he noticed tucked away in a drawer meant for vegetables. _Most important food group, my ass_. He gripped two of the bottles’ necks in one hand, the utensils in his other as he made his way to her low table, setting them down at one corner so that they’d be able to sit beside each other. When he looked up, he noticed that a book from her shelf was hanging out further than the rest—strange, as she’d clearly taken great care to line them up perfectly, the pages all flush with each other despite the varying sizes of the covers. It looked like it’d been shoved back hastily. He smiled, standing to stride across the room, two fingers carefully pulling at the corner of the book as Poppy walked over to the table carrying two steaming bowls. As she placed them down on the table, she noticed Tora by the shelf, the book open in his hands and a wide grin across his face.

Her mouth fell open as she ran over to him, “oh my god—Tora, what—”

“ _He lapped at her folds like a man dying of thirst, Arato’s tongue finding her clit in a frenzy_ ,” Tora read from the book, holding it one handed above Poppy, then higher above his head as she jumped to reach it, her face a vibrant red. Tora laughed, remembering the conversation he’d had with Quincey when he’d written this—it’d been the man’s first erotic novel, _The Secret Garden_. Luckily, he’d taken the little advice Tora had given him and the writing of his sex scenes had become much more subtle ever since—he worked the drama and over-the-top shit he was known for into the rest of the story. “Wait, wait, sweetheart, we’re gettin’ to the good part,” Tora laughed. “ _Arato took the plunge then_ ,” Tora laughed, almost unable to continue as Poppy continued to grasp at his arm, “ _she shrieked his name, legs kicking into the air as her body convulsed, milking his tongue as he drank her in_.” Poppy poked him in the ribs, hard, and Tora collapsed forward, body still shaking with gasps, his smile wide as she grabbed the book from him and hid it behind her back. “Had that section dog-eared for later, huh, sweetheart?”

She eyed him warily as his laughter died down until he was smirking at her. “You weren’t supposed to find out,” she said softly. “Are you mad?”

His face fell. _Mad?_ The hell would he be mad about? “What are ya talkin’ about, Bobby? The hell would I be upset about?” His eyes searched her face, but she wouldn’t meet his gaze. He heard her phone buzz from her chest and when he looked back up at her, her jaw was clenched. “Poppylan.” Finally, she looked up at him and the unshed tears in her eyes nearly broke his fuckin’ heart. “Shit, sweetheart,” he reached out, pulling her toward him until she was crushed against his chest. He buried his nose in her hair, feeling the bottom corner of the book press sharp against the top of his ass as her arms came up to wrap around his waist. “I’m so fuckin’ sorry, Poppy. I just like seein’ ya blush. Shit, never meant to actually upset ya.”

She shook her head against his torso, breathing deeply. “It’s not you, Tora,” she said finally, pulling from him. “I—” she started, pausing as she thought over her words. “Used to know someone who hated my…” she looked at the bookshelf, gesturing widely at it with the arm that still held Quincey’s book, “…collection,” she finished softly. “I thought you might…”

Tora tilted his head, looking over at the shelves with the spines turned in. So, some fuckface had shamed Bobby for her dirty books. No wonder she’d reacted so strongly—he’d thought she’d just been fuckin’ embarrassed. “Bobby,” he said, reaching for her hand which, he was relieved to see, she let him hold. “I think it’s ballsy as shit ya’ve got ya porn displayed on the fuckin’ wall,” he smiled as her eyes widened at the word _porn_ , “noticed it last night and it’s just as fuckin’ cute now as it was then.” He watched as her mouth fell open, “only ya could get away with something like that, Bobby,” he said, brushing the thumb of his other hand along her cheek before tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear. “Not sure why ya thought I’d be mad,” he said, “told ya, I know the fucker who wrote ‘em.” He watched as a smile slowly slid across her face, hesitant, but it was better than the broken expression she’d had just a minute ago, he thought. “Which reminds me,” he said, rolling his eyes and reaching into his back pocket with the hand not gripped in hers, “the little shit didn’t text me back.”

He unlocked the phone as Poppy watched on curiously, thumbing Quincey’s contact and moving the phone to his ear as his other hand stroked her fingers. He smiled at her, holding her gaze as the phone rang until Quincey picked up.

“Honey! What a nice surprise, you never call! Does this mean you’re coming over tonight? I think I’ve figured out the meet-cute disaster. Picture this: an asteroid—”

“Quince, ya get my text,” he kept his eyes on Poppy’s as he told rather than asked his brother, a silent threat in his voice.

Quincey was silent for a moment before he sighed, “…yeees. But, honey—”

“Ya remember what I told ya then.” Tora knew he wouldn’t have to remind the man of their conversation at the bus stop.

He heard Quincey groan on the other end of the line. Silence. Then, “fine, but just a meeting. I’m not signing a contract sight unseen.”

Tora grunted. Figured the little shit’d try to find a loophole in the one fuckin’ favor he needed. He leaned the phone away from his ear, bringing it down to his shoulder slightly as he asked Poppy, “when works best for ya, Bob?”

Her face seemed caught between a wide smile at the fact that the meeting was being set and a half-hearted scowl at the nickname. Tora smirked as she finally answered, “the sooner the better, I’ll make any time work.”

Tora nodded, bringing the phone back to his ear, just as Quincey asked, “—you talking to?”

“Quince.” He waited until Quincey had fallen silent again, “Monday. I’ll drive ya.”

“Well, who else would, honey,” Quincey replied, sounding distracted. Tora rolled his eyes as Quincey seemed to come to a moment later, “hey, you owe me a week of beta-reading for this.” No way in hell was he gonna spend an entire fuckin’ week’s worth of nights with Quincey instead of Bobby.

He ended the call without replying, sliding the phone back into his pocket before gingerly taking the book from Poppy’s hand and placing it on the shelf, spine-out. “So do all ya books come with a parental warnin’ on ‘em, Bobby?” he smirked.

She smacked his arm lightly, rolling her eyes, a blush still faint on her cheeks as she led him toward the table, “they’re for research purposes,” she said. Tora’s eyebrows shot up, _research?_

“Well, shit, Bobby,” he said, sitting down on the pillow beside her, “ya need a partner?” He cocked an eyebrow at her as he extended one of his legs around the side of the table toward her, resting an elbow on his knee as she shot him a look.

“Thank you for setting that up,” she said as she blew on a bit of fish from the congee.

“Pinky promised, didn’t I?” he said, his heartrate quickening as he continued, cautiously, “someone once told me they’re the most serious promise ya can make. Can’t go back on it.” He glanced up at her. She was chewing slowly, watching him with a strange look on her face. Did she remember? Had Poppy really been the one to tell him that all those years ago, pinky extended toward him in front of the yellow house? “Ya good, sweetheart?”

She blinked, then smiled. “Yeah,” she said, tilting her head to the side as she took another bite. Tora chewed, watching her as she seemed to mull something over, his heart thumping so loud he was sure she’d be able to hear it. “So, how do you know Noyouko?” she asked. Then, “you called him Quince?”

 _Shit_. He tried not to feel disappointed at the change in subject. It’d been years ago. Even if she _was_ the girl, it didn’t mean anything that she didn’t remember him, right? They’d had a ten-minute conversation ten years ago—why would she? _A good egg_. He swallowed the burn at the back of his throat at the idea that the words may have been empty.

“Mmm,” he nodded around a mouthful of congee. “We grew up together.” He repressed a frustrated sigh, he really didn’t want to talk about the fuckin’ Quincess right now. Couldn’t this conversation wait ‘til Monday?

“You must be close,” she said.

Tora hesitated, then nodded before taking another bite. They were fast approaching dangerous territory—the wide range of topics that he couldn’t share with her for her own safety. “You could say that.”

She thought again for a moment, chewing, before she said, “is he the Quincey B. from Regina’s Peak? The guardrail?”

 _Holy fuck_ , he’d forgotten he’d shown her that. Shit. He glanced over at her as she watched him. “Thought ya were a hamster, not a detective,” he said, reaching over to ruffle her hair. _Ya always this nosey?_ the words caught in his throat, remembering the last time he had spoken them. There was no way, he told himself again. No way.

 _Pfft, pfft_ , she batted his hand away lightly before taking one last bite of fish.

Eager to change the subject, Tora nodded to his empty bowl, “where’d ya learn to cook? S’real good. Same as the sandwich this mornin’.”

She smiled softly. “Well, before he got sick, my dad used to let me cook with him,” she said. “We’d make riceballs together and he’d let me decorate them however I wanted. Usually animals.” Poppy reached over and grabbed his bowl, stacking it against hers before she rose to walk to the kitchen. Tora picked himself up off the floor, following her to the sink where he nudged her aside, taking the sponge from her hand wordlessly as she grabbed a towel. “I have a memory of sitting on the counter watching my mom cook, but…” she trailed off as he washed their bowls, passing one into her hands for her to dry. “You know how sometimes you can’t tell if something’s real in your mind or if you just…made it up?”

He swallowed, nodded. Yeah, he sure fuckin’ did.

“Sometimes I wonder if it actually happened or if it’s just my brain’s way of making myself feel better.”

Holy shit. Tora bit his lip, frowning slightly as he passed her the other bowl, holding his hands over the sink to let them drip. “‘Bout what?”

She passed him the towel so he could dry his hands, moving to put the dishes away. “Oh, um. She left us when I was little. Around the time Dad left his job in the city and we moved to Moonbright, I think. Granny’s never really answered my questions about it,” she said before adding with a small smile, “don’t think she’s a big fan.”

Tora hung the towel back up along the edge of the stove where she’d grabbed it from, taking painstaking care to smooth out the wrinkles.

“Sorry,” she said, and Tora turned to look at her, finding that she’d dropped low to the floor, squatting against her heels, arms wrapped around her knees. “That got a little heavy, huh.” She grimaced, looking up at him.

Tora turned to face her, sliding down the counter until he sat on the floor of her kitchen, legs bent and splayed wide. He made a beckoning motion with his arms and waited until Poppy had slid over to him. He put his hands on her shoulders, gently guiding her to turn away from him before pulling her back against his chest so that she sat between his legs. “Don’t apologize for ya life,” he said, wrapping his arms around her stomach as she leaned her head back against his shoulder. He kissed her forehead lightly before leaning his cheek against her. “Seen some pretty fucked up shit in my life,” he said truthfully. “Not all the shit that happens to ya is in ya control. S’good ya can talk about it. Takes balls, Bobby. Ya fuckin’ strong.”

He felt her laugh softly against his chest before she squeezed one of his biceps, “not as strong as these.”

“ _Pfft._ S’just muscle, sweetheart. Anyone can grow ‘em. Nothin’ special.”

She poked him in the chest, “I have a feeling you’re strong in here, too. Good people usually are.” He swallowed, flicking his eyes up to the grainy photo tucked behind the strawberry on her fridge. _A good egg_. Did good people lock others in cargo containers, wrap ‘em up in plastic and dump ‘em? He didn’t think so. Her hand returned to his bicep, tracing a koi that wrapped up from around his tricep. “What made you choose your tattoos?”

He laughed, his thumb rubbing the ring around his middle finger reflexively. “Long story, sweetheart.”

“Thought we had all the time,” she said, pulling away slightly to look at his face. He smiled. Her eyes fell to the crest on his neck, fingers coming up to trace the bumps of new skin. “This one reminds me of something.”

Shit, if she’d ever read about the clan before in the news, she’d probably recognize the symbol. Hell, just that week there’d been that bust—all those politicians affiliated with the clan. He wasn’t ready to have that conversation now, sitting on the floor of her kitchen, holding Bobby separate from that part of his life. He nodded up to the freezer. “Whaddaya say we try some of those flavors.”

“Mmm, good idea,” she said as she stood. He watched as she pulled the container of strawberries from the fridge, left over from the night before. She turned to pass it to him as he frowned in confusion.

“Sweetheart, don’t get me wrong, I’m not complainin’…but these are strawberries.”

She rolled her eyes, “yes, thank you.” She turned from him, opening the door to the freezer. Tora quickly set down the strawberries as she started tossing him the small containers of ice cream without warning. “They’re for you. I have a sneaking suspicion you’re not the biggest fan of ice cream anyway.”

He laughed. “What happened to not judgin’ a book by its cover?”

She raised her eyebrows at him as she brought over two more containers, sitting down between his legs again, half-turned to him so that she leaned against one of his bent knees. She reached up to the drawer beside his head and pulled out a spoon. “Oh, I don’t think I ever agreed to that,” she deadpanned, “but was I wrong?” She licked her spoon, humming at the chocolate ice cream she’d just tasted.

He rolled his eyes, grabbing a strawberry from the open container, popping it in his mouth.

Her eyes widened in surprise, another spoonful of ice cream halfway to her mouth. “Did you just eat the stem?”

Tora chewed and swallowed, nodding his head, “course, why not?”

“Pesticides,” she gasped.

“Pesta-huh?” he asked, repressing a smile as he pulled another one from the container and put the whole thing in his mouth, not breaking eye contact as he chewed and swallowed.

“Tora, it’s poison!”

“Poison? Sweetheart, I’m too strong for that, said so yaself,” he scoffed, gesturing to his bicep where she’d squeezed him earlier, biting the inside of his mouth to keep from laughing. He made to grab another one and Poppy’s hand darted out to catch his wrist halfway to his open mouth. Tora waited for her to say something and, when she just continued to stare at him in shock, the chocolate ice cream from her own spoon dripping onto her thigh, he leaned forward to bite off the tip of the fruit from where she held his hand. He held her gaze as he chewed slowly, a silent dare. A moment later, the spoon had clattered from her fingers and she was gripping his shirt, her lips on his, the rest of the strawberry rolling from his fingers as his hands came up to wrap around her waist, pulling her up off the floor and against his hips, his hands slipping around to palm her ass. Fuck, he’d waited all day for this.

She moaned into his mouth as he squeezed her, hands roaming over the back of her shorts, the material cinching around her hips with each move of his palms. Her fingers tugged his hair slightly, pulling his head back against the counter as she opened her mouth against his, her tongue stroking his lip until he parted for her. There was none of the gentle exploration of the morning—Tora could feel her desire like heat throughout her body as she pressed against him, the knobs of the counters digging into the muscles of his back and he didn’t fuckin’ care, could hardly feel the metal as he kissed her, his Bobby, on the floor of her kitchen, the ice cream sticky on her thighs where the spoon had tumbled. He rubbed his hands up and down the backs of her thighs from the soft skin behind her knees all the way up to the waistband of her shorts as their moans lingered in the air around them. As her hands began to roam his chest, his fingers on his right hand caught the leg of her shorts, slipping beneath the material as he moved his hands up. He felt the soft fabric of her panties, a frill around the edge and felt her pull away from him slightly, both of them gasping on deep inhales, eyes circling the other’s face. He brought his hands down to the backs of her knees, thumbs tracing light circles on her skin, leaning his head toward her neck, kissing the skin beneath her jaw, up to her ear and back.

“Tora,” she breathed. Fuck, he wanted to hear her say his name over and over. Needed to hear her moan it. He brought his hands back up from her knees, skimming up her sides until his thumbs rubbed against the undersides of her tits. She gasped, pressing hard into his hands as he smiled against her neck. Fuck, he wanted her, wanted to make her writhe under his fingers. He dropped his hands back down along her sides to the shorts as she arched against him, slowly running his fingers up underneath the fabric until he hit the line where her skin met her panties. He panted against her neck, couldn’t help it, didn’t really fuckin’ care if he sounded desperate—he was. She clutched at his shirt, said his name again. He could barely hear her from the fog in his head, fuck, he was so hard. Needed to feel more of her. “Tora,” she said again and his hands stilled on her where he’d been stroking the edge of her underwear. _Shit_ , had he imagined it or was that hesitation he heard in her voice?

He lifted his head from her neck, turning his eyes to her face where she gazed down at him. “What is it, sweetheart?” he murmured, taking deep inhales as he tried to calm the pounding of his blood in his ears. She glanced down at her hands against his chest and he watched as she seemed to steel herself, taking a deep breath before looking him in the eye.

He nodded in encouragement, watching as she bit her lip—fuck, did she know how much that turned him on?—until finally she rushed out in one breath, “I’ve never had sex.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Like Tora, I also eat the entire strawberry (pesta-huh?), but definitely just out of sheer laziness lol 
> 
> Thank you thank you thank you for reading this story and for your sweet comments—they keep me going!
> 
> Ch. 16: So she's never had sex, huh?


	16. Would be different

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Who knew the kitchen floor could be so steamy?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> On account of no work today and being unable to leave that cliffhanger alone, ya girl wrote all day. What can I say, I’m not mad about it heh heh 🤤
> 
> NSFW for sure 🥵🥵🥵
> 
> As always, characters belong to the real MVP Lilydusk, brilliant creator of Midnight Poppy Land. Support her on Patreon! https://www.patreon.com/lilydusk

**Chapter 16**

“What is it, sweetheart?” Tora murmured, taking deep inhales as he tried to calm the pounding of his blood in his ears. She glanced down at her hands against his chest and he watched as she seemed to steel herself, taking a deep breath before looking him in the eye.

He nodded in encouragement, watching as she bit her lip—fuck, did she know how much that turned him on?—until finally she rushed out in one breath, “I’ve never had sex.”

Tora blinked, his lips parting. _I’ve never had sex_. Holy shit, had he heard that right? His Bobby was a virgin? He watched as her fingers traced the outline of the dinosaur on his shirt, carefully avoiding his eyes after she’d said it. A part of him nearly buzzed with excitement at the idea that he’d be her first, helping her explore her body in ways she never had. A larger part of him felt like he’d been doused with iced water—she was special to him but if they shared this, if she shared herself with him, her _first time_ with him—he’d be a part of her history forever. And fuck, there was a goddamned reason he didn’t do relationships, a reason he’d only ever limited himself to casual hook-ups—one-time things with women he never saw again. This was _Bobby_. She was already so much more than any of that.

 _And_ he was getting the fuck ahead of himself, he realized. She hadn’t even said she _wanted_ to have sex with him. Shit, maybe he’d read this all wrong. But her books… _research purposes_ , she’d said. And her hips, sweet fuck, he could still feel her hips against his. And this morning, he’d made her come, holy shit he’d made her come. With his fuckin’ hand. His hand through her shorts, so wet. Was she wet now? She’d ground against his fuckin’ cock, so warm against him, needy. Fuck, he couldn’t think straight. Poppy shifted against his lap where he still held her and Tora realized his eyes had glazed over at some point, that he’d still yet to respond to her admission. This incredibly personal detail she’d shared with him. And all he could think about was the fabric between them, her moans. How tight she must be. He swallowed.

“You’ve never…” _Fuck_ , it was like he’d forgotten how to form a fuckin’ sentence. He watched as she blushed, glancing back up at him, her fingers still nervous around the fraying seams adhering the orange-and-green crosshatched dinosaur patch to the sweatshirt.

“I’m not—” she swallowed, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear as she glanced away from him, staring at something on the floor. He looked over. The strawberry, the fuckin’ fruit he’d eaten with the sole intent of fuckin’ seducin’ her. Bobby, a virgin. He bit back a groan, looking back at her, _listen to her words, ya stupid fuck_. “It’s not like I’m—” she cut herself off again.

He was trying to listen. So hard, he really was. Tora nodded at her, _please, Bobby. Keep goin’._ He breathed in deep through his nose and she shifted her hips again. Fuck, she was really close to his cock.

“I’m not saving myself or anything,” she said quickly. His eyebrows shot up, holy shit, was this really happening? No, he couldn’t. _Could he?_ He watched as she frowned, why was she frowning?

“Tora, are you okay?” she peered at him, biting her lip. He couldn’t look away, found himself mirroring her movements. “You haven’t blinked in a while.”

“Shit, sweetheart, sorry,” he blinked, shifted slightly, suddenly realizing his hands were still frozen in place at her hips, fingers resting on the edge of her panties. But she hadn’t moved either. “Poppylan,” her name tethered him to the ground, this moment. Some of the fog cleared as he again remembered where his fingers were and what she’d just shared. “I need to hear what ya want.”

“What—” she blinked a couple times, seemingly confused, “what _I_ want?”

He nodded—didn’t like the look that passed over her face, as if taking into consideration what _she_ wanted hadn’t occurred to her. Or worse, he thought darkly, as if someone’d told her at some point that it didn’t matter. “Yeah, Poppy,” he emphasized, “what ya want. Ya lead, I follow.”

“You’re not turned off?”

Tora’s mouth fell open and he felt his eyebrows pull up toward his hairline. “Shit, Bobby, do I look turned off to ya?” He glanced down at himself, could feel the heat in the tips of his ears as he directed her gaze toward his erection that still pressed uncomfortably tight against his jeans in the whisper of space between their bodies.

She blushed, looking down and then back up. “But what about what _you_ want?”

“Poppylan,” he said, tightening his grip on her hips, pressing his fingers firmly against her skin, “I want ya. Any and every part of ya that ya willin’ to share with me.” He swallowed, looking down at her fingers on his chest, “whether that’s eatin’ ice cream on ya fuckin’ floor,” she stifled a laugh behind one of her hands, “helpin’ ya grab coffee,” he moved his hand to hold the one in front of her mouth, bringing it down to his chest, “or gettin’ to be ya research partner…” He trailed off, holding her gaze. Swallowed again, tight. Slowly, she smiled. “I just need to know what ya want.” He paused, glancing back at the food around them. “We got a shitload of ice cream and those pesticides are callin’ my name, so if that’s all ya want tonight, we should grab ya another spoon.”

He waited for what seemed like an eternity, Poppy on his lap, subtle movements against him with each rise and fall of her chest, one hand stilled against his shirt, the other twisting the ends of the hair she’d tucked. She took a deep breath, her eyes on his, voice steady as she said slowly, “I want to take it slow…but I want to keep going.” Tora let out a short exhale, _keep going. Slow but keep going_ , he could fuckin’ handle that. His cock pulsed, fingers twitched around her thighs but he stilled himself. As exciting as her answer’d been, it was fuckin’ vague, and he needed to be crystal fuckin’ clear. Fuck if he was gonna hurt her or turn her off to the possibility that maybe one day soon he’d actually get to use one of the gold fuckers in his bag.

“I need to know what ya limits are, Bobby,” he said, shifting her closer against him as she brought her hands to rest on top of his shoulders. Her eyes were wide pools he just wanted to sink into. Holy shit, how was this woman so fuckin’ beautiful? How was she letting him touch her? Why a motherfucker like _him_ when she hadn’t let anyone else? He didn’t think for a second there’d been a lack of opportunity—in the week he’d known her, she’d been hit on by another man in front of him and the other guys in the clan couldn’t stop callin’ her fuckin’ cute. Not that they were wrong, but sweet fuck, it’s not like he was the only one who saw it. So why choose him?

She seemed to hesitate for a moment before leaning forward until the side of her nose rubbed against his, “I lead, you follow?” she asked, her lips a whisper on his.

He swallowed, the fog getting thicker. Fuck, he was breathing so heavy. “Yeah, Bobby. Your move.”

He watched as she brought her lips to rest against his then, lighter than the first time, “kiss me.” 

He groaned, pressing into her, one of his hands running up her spine until he held the back of her neck. She tasted sweet, a hint of chocolate on her lips as he stroked his tongue along the seam along her teeth, her mouth slowly opening to his on a soft moan as he angled her head deeper. Her hands gripped the sides of his collar as he felt her moving between his legs—first one knee then another on either side of his hips until she settled back down against him. He could feel the heat from her core as he released his legs from their bent position, slowly lowering her until she was flush against his crotch. Her tongue explored the back of his mouth as she tilted her head against his, and Tora let the fingers of his other hand begin to move again, sliding back out from the bottom of her shorts. He slid them up her body to cup her tit, swiping his thumbs firmly where he thought her nipples would be, the shape of her phone impeding his movement. Just then, it buzzed and, without breaking away from his mouth, she reached one hand into her bra, grabbed the device and let it tumble beside them onto the floor. Tora wondered for a moment about who the fuck was texting her repeatedly so late at night, seemingly to her continued annoyance, but then her hands were pulling at the hem of his sweatshirt.

He fought the urge to tear the thing over his head, _she leads, ya follow_ , instead, breaking from their kiss to lean his head against her throat, using his palm against the back of her neck to direct her head up, breathing hard as he traced her exposed collarbone with his tongue. He felt her shiver as he began to place kisses along its length, moving slowly back and forth. Her hands had stilled at the hem of his shirt as he’d kissed the hollow above her collarbone, her breath coming quickly. Tora smiled, asking between presses of his lips, “sweetheart. Ya need help?”

“Mmm,” she breathed, her fingers again moving at the material, trying to find the edge of the sweatshirt from the hem of the t-shirt he wore beneath it. He inhaled deeply against her neck, fuck, he was so hard, could feel her every squirm against the head of his cock pressed firmly against the fabric she rubbed against. Did she want both shirts off or just one? _She leads, ya follow_. Fuck. He lowered his hand from her chest to help her, pulling up the sweatshirt until she grabbed the end, peeling it from his t-shirt as he could hear, feel the pricks of static charge, the slight weight of the strawberry tie thumping back against his hair. He groaned when she’d finally gotten it off him, his t-shirt having ridden up to his chest, her palms moving to his bare abdomen, stroking his skin firmly as she kissed him again. Fuck, her hands felt so good, he desperately wanted to feel them lower.

Tora moved his hand up her thigh, brushing lightly as he skimmed past the hem of her shirt before he felt one of her hands leave his torso, fingers firmly wrapping around his wrist and drawing his palm back down to the place where her shirt rose above her shorts. She pressed his fingers against the bare skin beneath the fabric, and Tora inhaled sharply through his nose. She was definitely inviting him to explore, he was almost positive. Still, he waited a moment, returning her kisses until she again tugged at his wrist, murmuring, “touch me,” against his lips as she pulled his hand further up her bare body, the fabric of her tank top bunching up around their joined hands. Not needing to be asked a third time, Tora skimmed his hand along her side, her skin was so warm, palms exploring the soft dips and curves of her body until he hit the cup of her bra. His fingers danced along the wire before he brought his thumb up to swipe across the peak where he could feel her nipple had stiffened. He felt her nod against his mouth, humming as her fingers tugged his hair around the strawberry. She moaned against his mouth as he reached a hand around to the back of her bra, fingers stilling for a moment on the clasp before she ground her hips against him.

Fuck, Tora could hardly think, surrounded by her sweet scent, the taste of chocolate and strawberries mingling together on their tongues as he brought his other hand down from her neck and back up beneath her shirt, finding the other side of the clasp. She shivered as he unhooked it slowly, rubbing the skin beneath where he could feel grooved indentations from where the tight elastic had imprinted against her. He wanted to ask her if it hurt, wanted desperately to soothe them, trace them with his tongue, but all he could think about was the journey of his hands back around to her front, his fingers then his palms inching up beneath the padded material until he was cupping her bare skin. Her tits so warm and heavy in his grasp as he thumbed her nipples, her back arching into his hands. He could barely hear her moans as he moved his mouth to her neck, her nails scratching against his scalp as he trailed open-mouthed kisses up her throat. Could feel the soft vibrations of her moans beneath his tongue. He murmured her name against her skin, then again as he squeezed her tits, holy fuck he wanted to feel them in his mouth, wanted to feel them brush up and down his chest as she slid against his length. Again, he found himself thinking how tight she’d be, wondering how wet he could make her if just the heel of his hand had been enough to soak through her panties to her shorts as she’d ground against him on the couch that morning.

The straps of her bra had slid down her arms, dangling around her elbows as she spread her palms against his stomach, reaching for the hem of his shirt which she tugged up from around his chest until he withdrew his hands from her shirt, quickly tearing the stupid thing off his head as he watched her make quick work of the bra, sliding her arms from the straps and pulling the garment out from the V of her tank top, her tits bouncing with the force, nipples pressing against the fabric. Before he could stop himself, Tora had ducked his head, wrapping his hands beneath her ass to lift her closer up his torso as he brought his mouth to her neckline. He found the faint bruise of his mark from the night before and sucked it lightly until she rocked against him, her core at the center of her legs pressing against the skin above his jeans, warm and damp. He could hear a faint buzzing over the sounds of the heavy inhales they drew through their noses. He dipped his tongue beneath the fabric of her shirt, pushing the material to the side with his nose as he trailed further down her tit, gently sucking at her skin which felt soft as the petals from the field of poppies earlier that day. _You have to give them love, Tora_. His heart pounded in his chest, his exhales ragged against her chest, his thumbs rubbing the skin just beneath her shorts, _love, Tora._

Suddenly, Poppy was twisting in his embrace, lunging across the floor from his grasp on her hips. She picked up the phone from where it had fallen and Tora saw the words _Unknown Caller_ flashing across the screen before she chucked it into the living room.

“Holy shit, Bob—” and then her lips were on his, insistent as she wiggled in his hands until he loosened his grip, her hips sliding down until she perched on his upper thighs. Her hands were at his pants, scrabbling at the closure of his jeans and, before Tora had time to register what was happening, Poppy’s fingers were pulling down his fly. His hands quickly came to her wrists as he pulled his head back from her lips, staring at her as he caught his breath. Her eyes were wide, pupils blown and face flushed down to her neck. Her hands shook slightly in his loose hold around her wrists. “Bobby, don’t get me wrong,” he panted, transferring both wrists to one hand as he brought a finger up to brush her hair behind her shoulder, thumb tracing over the love bites along her neck that he’d given her that morning. “I’m absolutely down to keep goin’, shit.” He swallowed, catching her eye, “but what the fuck was that?” he asked jerking his head toward the living room where she’d hurled the phone.

She sighed, leaning back on his thighs as her wrists slipped from his grip. He watched as she stood up—he tried to ignore the faint damp line he could see at her crotch as she stepped over him, padding toward the living room where she picked up the phone from the floor, turning it over in her hands. “Shoot,” he heard her mutter as he pushed himself into a crouch, quickly scooping up the ice cream and strawberries from the floor before he strode to stand behind her, looking at the device over her shoulder as he brought his hands up to touch her elbows. She turned in his arms, the screen was cracked down the center—one bold line with hairline fractures splitting out, like a river suddenly cut across the glass. He pressed a thumb to the button at the bottom, testing to see if it would light up and the momentary feeling of relief at the fact that he still had a way to text her was quickly replaced by a frown. She had a shit ton of missed calls and a stack of text notifications, all from an unknown number. He looked up at her, tilting his head until she finally sighed meeting his gaze. He couldn’t tell if she looked pissed or incredibly sad—maybe somewhere in between. Fuck, who the hell was trying to contact her and why did she look so…small? Like a shell of herself as she clutched the phone between them.

“Still paying this one off,” she muttered, glancing down at the crack.

He brought a thumb to her chin, gently guiding her eyes back up to his. “Bobby, what’s goin’ on?”

“Just a jerk,” she said softly, before adding more forcefully with a hand to his chest, as though reading his mind, “I’m handling it.”

Tora clenched his jaw. Who the fuck was messin’ with his Bobby? Whoever the hell it was, the fucker was dead. His expression must have betrayed what he was thinking despite his attempt to keep a neutral face, because she brought the other hand that gripped the phone to his chest as well, “it’s nothing. Really.”

He huffed. Tora didn’t like this one bit. Here he’d been trying to protect her from his life in the clan, but the whole time there’d been something from her own past outside his control? He moved a hand to tuck her hair behind her ear, letting his fingers trail down her shoulder where he skimmed against the vibrant reds of her tattoo. “You in danger?” he asked lowly, meeting her eyes with a look he knew might scare her, but he couldn’t help it. The idea that some fucker was harassing her…

Her eyes widened slightly before she sighed, “no. It’s annoying more than anything.”

He watched her expression. She’d been incredibly open with him, honest. He didn’t have any reason not to believe her. “Alright, Bobby,” he said finally, adding, “but ya tell me if it becomes more than annoying.”

Her eyes narrowed, moved around his face before she smirked, “you know, I was a scout growing up. I can take care of myself.”

He snorted, “ya mean the kind that sells cookies and shit?” Tora laughed again as she rolled her eyes. “S’that where ya got ya sweet tooth, Bobby,” he asked, pitching his voice low, a purr as he leaned down against her ear, arms drawing around her before he hoisted her up by the ass. He smirked up at her as he felt her legs wrap around his waist, her feet hooking together across the bare skin above his ass. She brought her lips to his as he walked them to the couch, lowering them slowly until she straddled his lap, knees pressed into the cushions on either side of him as she stroked her hands back down his chest to his waistband.

“Tora,” she said quietly, breaking from their kiss, her fingers dancing at the edge of the briefs that were exposed from when she’d unzipped him. “I don’t think I’m ready tonight,” she said. Tora swallowed, sensing she had more to say, “to go all the way,” she clarified. “But,” she slipped a fingertip along the inside of his waistband, her nail skimming across his trail of hair as he bit back a groan, determined to hear every word from her mouth, “is this okay?”

He brought a hand to the back of her neck, guiding her lips to his as he used his other to wrap around her wrist, pressing her hand more firmly against his waistband. He felt her smile against his lips as she snuck the rest of her fingers into his briefs, her hand wedged tight between his body and the fabric. He almost groaned—there was no way in hell, even with her small hands, she was going to be able to reach him while he was wearing his fuckin’ jeans, he realized. He pulled his lips from hers, breathing, “hold on tight, sweetheart,” as he brought his hands down to the waistband of his jeans, lifting his hips suddenly as Poppy grabbed his shoulders, and thumbing the inside of the pants. He considered for a second whether he should take off his briefs, too, before deciding against it. _She leads, ya follow_. Besides, he thought, he didn’t wanna scare her off, realizing with a sinking feeling she’d probably never seen a dick in person. He shucked his jeans down his thighs, collapsing back to the couch and using his feet to tug them the rest of the way down his legs as Poppy slid back into his lap, his cock catching between her ass and dragging up her center before bobbing between them.

They both froze, Tora’s breath caught in the back of his throat. Shit, she’d _just_ said she _didn’t_ want to do that, wasn’t ready to go that far and his _first_ _move_ had been to press his cock straight to her core. But when he looked up at her, carefully gauging her reaction, whether she wanted to stop, he only saw his own hunger in her eyes. Tora held her gaze as he felt her hand dip into his briefs again, his cock pulsed, ached with need as her fingers found him then, slowly wrapping around the middle of his length. He moaned, couldn’t help, couldn’t stop the sound, so loud from the base of his throat as his head fell back against the couch. Seemingly encouraged by his reaction, Poppy began moving her fist against him. He was already so close to coming, _how was he already so fuckin’ close_ , she’d barely just begun touching him and her grip was clumsy, unsure of herself as she slipped up and down. He needed her tighter on him. Tora lifted his head, blinking to bring her face into focus. She’d been watching his expression, biting her lip around a soft smile, her eyes bright and curious. Fuck, he couldn’t take it.

“Poppy,” he moaned, and she smiled wider. He rolled his head again as she gripped him tighter, more sure of herself now, before he looked back at her, “can I…” he trailed off, thumbs resting lightly inside the hem of his briefs. She seemed to understand what he was asking, what he needed. Keeping one hand fisted around him, Poppy gripped the hem of his briefs, pulling down until his cock was finally— _sweet fuck, finally_ —free. He watched as she glanced down at him, her eyes wide, hand stilling for a moment before she continued. Seconds later, he felt her other hand thumb the bead of precum at his head and he threw his head back, a full-body shudder running up his spine. “Fuuuuu,” he moaned. Tension coiled low in his abdomen. _Shit, no_. His hand came up to wrap her wrist, as though entirely separate from his body, stilling her movements as he swallowed harshly.

He opened his eyes after a moment, meeting her confused gaze as she sat back on his thighs, her feet hooked around the backs of his knees. “I did something wrong,” she said.

“Sweet fuck, _no_ ,” he gasped, still panting hard as he shook his head. “Bobby, ya gonna make me come if ya keep goin’.” He watched as she bit down on a smile, _was that pride?_

“Then, why stop?” she asked. His lips parted and it took every ounce of self-restraint he had not to let her continue. Instead, he palmed her ass with one hand, leaning forward as his other arm braced against the length of her spine, flipping them around as she gasped in surprise, clutching his shoulders tightly, her back against the seat of the couch.

“Wanna make ya come again, Bobby,” he murmured against her jaw, holding himself lightly above her body. “Been thinkin’ ‘bout it all day,” he said low, kissing his way down her throat as she leaned her head back against the seat. “The sound of ya breath all quick,” he brought the hand on her hip up and around until he gripped the top of her thigh, thumb tracing the edge of her shorts just inches below the place where her legs met. “The feel of ya thighs shakin’, ya body pressed against me,” he dragged his tongue down to her sternum, kissing the space at the center of her chest where her tits had parted before nuzzling his nose against one of her peaks, nipping her through her shirt as she let out a soft moan. “The way ya rocked against my fuckin’ hand. Sweet fuck, ya shorts, so fuckin’ wet,” he breathed as he lowered his face across her belly, lifting the hem of her shirt so he could kiss her there. “Wanna see ya come again, wanna hear ya moanin’,” he murmured as his fingers hooked into the waistband of her shorts. He looked up at her from between her legs, “whaddaya say, Bobby?”

She bit her lip, worry and lust plastered across her flushed face. “Just the shorts,” she whispered. Tora waited, fingers still hooked around the pants until she nodded.

Slowly, he pulled them down her legs until he’d reached her knees. He sat up quickly, his eyes glued to Poppy’s he pulled off her shorts before he bent his head to her thighs, sliding his body further down the couch. His cock ached against the fabric as he brought his lips to the chocolate smear of ice cream that had dried on her skin. He met her gaze as he placed the flat of his tongue against her leg, feeling her shiver under his hands where he gripped the backs of her thighs, firmly swiping against the chocolate stain. So fuckin’ sweet—the sugar mixed with the taste of her skin as he tongued her again. He moved to her other thigh, nuzzling against the strawberry, now just a faint outline on her skin. He kissed it—holy shit, he’d wanted to do that for so long, tongue tracing the bottom arch. “What made ya want a strawberry, sweetheart,” he murmured against the design, tongue darting out once, twice, three times as she gasped.

Poppy hummed, her head thrown back, mouth open around shallow pants, “mmm, it was…” she paused, sucking in once when Tora scraped his teeth lightly against the inside of her thigh.

“Asked ya a question, Bobby,” he said, sucking her skin gently between his teeth as she twitched, her breathing ragged.

She hummed again before gasping, “aaah-I, I used to grow them.”

He smiled against her thigh, of course she fuckin’ did. “Oh yeah? Like bushes and shit? You show them love?” he murmured, bringing one hand up to skim across her pelvis where he could feel a thatch of hair beneath the cotton fabric of her underwear.

She laughed once before it turned into another gasp as he switched his mouth to her other thigh, his thumb brushing down once to skim just above her clit. “Mmm-mm,” she said, “like,” she took a deep breath, “like flowers.”

“Flowers, huh?” He glanced down, could see a large dark patch where she’d soaked through the thin fabric of her panties. “Shit, Bobby, ya fuckin’ soaked,” he murmured, flicking his tongue along the edge of her panties where he could see some of the dampness had rubbed. Holy shit, she tasted good—sweet and musky. He thought back to the page she’d dog-eared in the book—fuck, maybe the guy’d had a point. He wanted nothing more than to bury himself in her.

Tora’s mouth went dry, the damp fabric clung to the outline of her lips as she flexed once, then again. He breathed out low, grinding his hips to the couch as he brought a hand up and around from the back of her thigh, lightly brushing a thumb over her center where the material was darkest. She jerked against him, panting lightly around a soft moan as her eyes fluttered shut.

Sweet fuck, even with the underwear still between them he was in fuckin’ heaven. He leaned forward, pressing his nose to her mound and moving his head slightly as she ground against him. Fuck, he wanted her to sit on his face, to use him for her pleasure. Her scent was intoxicating, surrounding him. He tilted his head, opening her hips wider as he kissed the innermost part of her thigh, the soft skin lined with fine lines, a couple shades lighter than the surrounding area. He kissed them, tracing his tongue over them—stretch marks like the ones that crept from the creases of his armpits around the dip between his deltoids and biceps. He wondered faintly what other marks her body had that he’d yet to discover as he moved his head back to her center, pressing his lips to the damp fabric covering hers.

“Show me what ya like, Bobby,” he breathed and, as she exhaled around his name, he pressed the flat of his tongue against the fabric over her clit, smiling around his open mouth as she moaned his name again, louder, one of her legs bending around his back, her foot against his skin. He moved his mouth, placing the heel of his thumb against the top of her mound varying the combination of pressure and movement until her breath hitched and her hips were grinding against him. He sat up slightly, planting a foot on the ground as his hand worked against her core, the sound of her inner lips kissing together nearly enough to drive him over the edge alone. He pulled his briefs down roughly with one hand before bringing his fist to his base, his eyes finding Poppy’s for a second before her head fell back again on another moan.

It was too much, all too much. His Bobby, splayed beneath his hand, one of her palms reaching up to cup her tit through her shirt as her legs trembled. He willed her to come, he wasn’t sure how much longer he could hold on, his fist pumping faster, tighter, fuck she was so wet. A moment later he watched as her legs drew up slightly, her back arching as he felt her spasm under his hand. He kept the pressure on her mound for another couple of seconds as he felt the aftershocks of her orgasm wash over her, the cotton so fuckin’ wet under his palm, and then he couldn’t hold onto his own any longer, quickly pulling his hand away from her to hold up the hem of his briefs, catching his cum inside the fabric as he pulsed before slumping back onto the couch.

His head fell back, and a couple long moments passed. Tora wasn’t sure how long it’d been, Poppy was still panting on the other side of the couch, her breath slowly returning to her. He could feel the cum, thick and hot, slowly dripping down his balls from where it’d caught inside his briefs. He couldn’t bring himself to give a fuck, panting slightly as he looked over at Poppy beside him. Her legs were still spread wide and she had one arm thrown across her forehead. The wet cotton was practically glued to her, leaving little to the imagination of what she’d look like in this position without them. He could see where her wetness had soaked through in the shape of his palm. Feeling his warm gaze on her, she opened her eyes, blinking down at him. Smiled. How the fuck did she do that? He remembered a line from a movie Quincey’d made him watch once every week the year it’d come out— _the perfect combination of sexy and cute_. Fuck, he hadn’t known what the hell the main character was talkin’ about. Had insisted the guy was off his fuckin’ rocker as his brother had sobbed against his side every goddamned time. But _sweet fuck_. He couldn’t stop the smile across his face as he held an arm out to her.

Poppy sat up, moving down the couch to settle against his side. He heard her giggle and when he looked down at her, she was reaching for his crotch. “What’s that, sweetheart?”

“Made a mess,” she said, a finger tracing over the large wet spot that had soaked through to the outside of his briefs.

He looked down and smirked, sighing, “worth it.”

 _Pfft, pfft, pfft_ , she let her head fall against his shoulder as his arm wrapped tighter around her, palm cupping her bottom, fingers digging lightly into her flesh. They sat in silence for a couple of minutes. Tora looked out the balcony where the door was still open. Cool air from the river blew gently into the room, whispering through her hair where it had teased from the couch, tickling his face. He listened to the sound of their breath, his heartrate slowing, the tension seeping from his body, falling away as he looked at the stars glinting from the night sky beyond her railing.

“Stay?” she said quietly.

He smiled, closing his eyes, “course.” He pressed his lips to the top of her head as she tightened an arm around him, breathing deeply against his skin. He could hear the whir of her fridge kick on from the other room and he clenched his jaw, trying to push the sound of the cooling unit from his mind. The reefer from his mind. The body from his—

“Did you want a shower?” she asked softly.

He took a deep breath, slowing his heartrate. “I’m good, sweetheart. I’ll just wash up quick,” he said, stretching his arms above his head as he glanced toward the kitchen. “Should put away that ice cream,” he murmured.

She giggled, “well, for what it’s worth,” she said, pulling away from him to stand as she trailed her fingers down his arm, “I really liked the chocolate.”

He laughed, “we’ll have to try the rest some other time.”

She smiled at him, before turning toward the kitchen, sliding and locking the balcony door on her way, “I’d like that.”

Tora got up, walking gingerly toward the front door where his bag rested, trying not to let the wet fabric, heavy with cum, hit his thighs as he walked. As he stood up with a clean pair of briefs, he wondered whether he should go to the bathroom to change them—would it be weird to strip here? She’d already seen him after all. He glanced back toward the kitchen, _fuck it_ , she probably wouldn’t ever know. He turned toward the door, though, just in case. He quickly used the dry parts of the old pair to wipe himself down, tossing them on top of the bag. As he was pulling the clean pair up over his ass, he heard Poppy from behind him, “I wondered how big it was.”

He turned to look at her, smirking, his head tilted to the side, “what was that, Bobby? Ya say ya were thinkin’ about how…big…it was?”

She flushed, her mouth falling open, “I-I meant your t-tattoo.”

He chuckled, turning back to his bag to dig out a t-shirt, “sure ya did.”

She huffed from across the room, before she muttered, “I mean, I didn’t really get to see it.”

As he pulled on the worn shirt, he walked back over to her, “ya gonna have to be a little more specific, Bobby. Which one we talkin’ about now?”

Though her blush deepened, she met his eyes, “either. Both.”

“Mmm,” he hummed, nodding. “Well, maybe next time we can change that,” he said, pulling her to his chest.

“Oh, next time?” she bit her lip against a smile. She pulled away from him slightly, leaning to flick the light off in the kitchen before leading him across the room by his hand. “So…” she said softly, opening the door to the bathroom and turning on the light before turning back to him, “it was…good for you?” She reached over to the sink where she grabbed her toothbrush from a cup before opening the cabinet and pulling out another one wrapped in plastic, opening it and handing it to Tora who took it wordlessly, his mouth open and eyes wide.

“ _Good_ for me? Bobby,” he rubbed a hand behind his neck as she grabbed his wrist, steadying the toothbrush as she applied a dollop of paste, “me jerkin’ it alone in the shower’s _good_. That,” he gestured back toward the darkness of the living room, “that was fuckin’ phenomenal.”

She smiled softly around her toothbrush as she looked down, spitting into the sink as Tora copied her movements. He noticed the spikey plant on the shelf behind her—he’d been right, it fit right in. When they’d both rinsed, she flicked the lights again, taking his hand to lead him easily through the darkness of her apartment. “Inside or outside,” she asked.

“What do ya think, sweetheart?” he smiled.

“Mmm,” Poppy hummed as she crawled into bed first, he could hear her pulling back the covers, watched as her silhouette moved against the wall before he heard her pat the bed beside her.

He hesitated for a moment, swallowing before he stuck his legs under the covers. He breathed deeply, focusing on keeping a steady rhythm between inhales and exhales. _Tonight would be different. Inhale. Bobby was here. Exhale. Tonight would be different. Inhale. Bobby was here._ His eyes flicked around the unfamiliar room, opened wide as he willed his sight to adjust to the darkness. He fought the urge to stick his leg out from under the covers, so used to the assurance of his foot planted beside him on the floor. Just as he was considering how he could tell Bobby he needed to head out, he felt her arm slip around his torso. He turned to look over at the spot where he could feel her heat, his lips parting.

“Is this okay,” she asked quietly from below his shoulder. He could feel the whisper of her lips against his arm, her soft exhales on his skin.

He lifted his arm, wrapping it up and around her body as she immediately snuggled into his side, his other arm holding her elbow across his stomach. “Yeah, Bobby. S’nice.”

“How about this?” she asked after a moment, and he felt her bring one of her legs slowly up and over his thigh, tucking her knee between his legs.

He laughed softly, “course, Bobby. Just watch ya knee,” he smirked as he heard her sigh.

“I _am_ sorry about that.”

He pressed a kiss to her forehead, rubbing his palm gently up and down her arm. “S’alright, sweetheart. Probably forgive ya one day.”

She clicked her teeth and he smiled up at the ceiling where he could see she’d stuck a couple of glow-in-the-dark stars, faintly green in the corner of his eye. When he looked directly at them, they disappeared, the darkness of the room swallowing them whole. He felt Poppy’s breathing even out, her head grow heavy against his chest, the whir of the fridge from the other room heavy in the air around them.

_Tonight would be different. Inhale. Bobby was here. Exhale. Tonight would be different. Inhale._

_Bobby was here._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am B-L-U-S-H-I-N-G, first time ever writing something like that hahaha 
> 
> Thank you thank you thank you for reading this story and for your sweet comments—they keep me going!
> 
> Ch. 17: It’s been a minute since we checked in with Poppy…should we check in with her? Probably a good idea...


	17. Parasympathetic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Poppy comforts her tiger and handles a dick *ahem* wad.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fluff and angst and light smut heh 
> 
> As always, characters belong to the real MVP Lilydusk, brilliant creator of Midnight Poppy Land. Support her on Patreon! https://www.patreon.com/lilydusk
> 
> CW for some negative self-body image

**Chapter 17**

Poppy flicked off the light of the bathroom, grabbing Tora’s hand in the darkness and leading him through her apartment. All she could see against the quiet of the living room as they walked to her bedroom was a purple-green imprint of the inside of the bathroom—the sink, and the toilet, the open door beside the light switch. But—in just the couple of months she’d been living in the city—she’d learned the tiny space she now called home like the back of her hand, had walked this path many times before, though, she thought with a smile, never with another person. Especially not with someone whose company she enjoyed as much as she did Tora’s.

She’d been thrilled when he had agreed to stay the night again—in fact, she’d been excited as soon as she’d seen him in the parking lot earlier, staring up at her on the balcony as she watered the plants, his overnight bag slung across his shoulder. He’d looked so natural there, a grocery bag in his hand as though she’d asked him to stop for something on his way home from work. She’d been about to tease him about his parking job—the red car just slightly askew between two spaces, as though he’d actually tried to stay between the lines and simply couldn’t, unable to be contained by a box—but the words died in her throat as all she could feel was happiness that he’d come back. Not that she’d doubted him, necessarily. Just…Julri had made her a lot of small promises like that before about when or whether he’d be spending time with her, most of them broken. It’d become clear in their final months living together that he’d lost interest in spending his time with her. So, she reasoned, it was normal, or at least understandable, for her to be guarded. But Tora was different, she kept reminding herself—he’d never once given her a reason to doubt his word. Besides, even if he had, it’s not like he owed her anything. They’d only known each other a week. _A week and a day_ , she smiled.

When she thought they’d reached the edge of the bed, Poppy put her hand out, feeling for the comforter—though she was fairly positive it was only a step away, she didn’t want to embarrass herself in front of him by flopping to the floor. Jeez, how mortifying that’d be. And to think she’d been embarrassed when she’d found the condoms in his pocket, her hand wedged so close to his clear arousal. She made to put her knee on the bed, but stopped herself—what if he wanted to be against the wall? She could handle being on the outside…he was her guest after all. “Inside or outside?” she asked him, fingers crossed on the hand that wasn’t intertwined with his. She loved the way he always seemed to _want_ to touch her the way she wanted to touch him—sure, there was desire like an undercurrent in the way they circled each other, but there was also a tenderness of friendship. She liked to think that, even if he didn’t feel the way she did, he’d still reach for her hand.

Though she couldn’t see him in the darkness, Poppy could hear the smile in his voice as he responded with a low murmur that made her stomach flutter, “what do ya think, sweetheart?”

“Mmm,” she hummed, pulling back the comforter and crawling across the bed. He hadn’t moved, though, maybe he was waiting for a clearer invitation? He’d been adamant earlier about needing to hear exactly what she wanted. At that thought, she smiled—her wants, desires, needs, she could tell they were important to him, though she wasn’t sure why. They hadn’t known each other very long at all. Poppy patted the bed where she’d pulled back the covers and a moment later, felt the mattress press down as Tora climbed in beside her.

She frowned slightly when she didn’t feel him pull up the covers—he’d stuck his legs under, but his entire torso was uncovered so that the blanket dipped down from where it was wrapped over her chest. Poppy made to reach for the edge so she could pull it up—she wanted him to be comfortable—but stopped herself. She could hear him breathing deeply, slowly. Maybe he ran hot at night—when they’d slept on the couch, she’d fallen asleep too quickly to notice, and they hadn’t been under any covers anyway.

Tentatively, she slid closer to him, easing an arm across his shirt—he felt so stiff, hadn’t relaxed into the bed at all. His muscles were tensed under her touch, like he was ready to bolt. Maybe he didn’t want to be held, didn’t like it? But he’d held her on the couch just then, had seemed content to stay there forever if she’d asked. And the night before, he’d held her to his chest until the warmth of the sun filtered through her apartment. She leaned her face against his arm, her nose pressed against a dip between two of the large muscles at the edge of his sleeve, inhaling deeply, holding his scent in her lungs for a moment until she felt light-headed with the feel of him. He had twitched when she first wrapped her arm around him, still hadn’t quite relaxed. “Is this okay,” she asked, almost afraid to hear the answer. She hoped he liked to cuddle—she was definitely someone who communicated through touch.

Poppy waited for a moment, and then he was pulling his arm from her. The sting of rejection threatened to crush her but, before she had time to really process what was happening, his arm was around her, his large palm cradling her waist, fingers splayed over her shorts as he pulled her to him. Poppy bit her lip around a smile as she nuzzled into his side—how was he so hard yet soft at the same time? She thought back to the way he’d felt in her hand as she’d stroked him—like velvet over steel. Her face flushed and she buried her nose deeper against his side, finding the little ridges of his side muscles before she rested her head in the crook of his armpit. _Phenomenal_ , he’d said. She felt him move his hand to hold her elbow, “yeah, Bobby. S’nice.”

She breathed deeply against him, enjoying the feel of him in her bed, so large, he took up most of the tiny frame, but she liked the feeling of being entirely consumed by him. Still, they could be closer… “How about this?” she asked as she lifted the leg against the covers up and over his thigh, her knee coming to rest between his legs which he parted slightly to give her more room to wiggle down against him. His chest shook slightly as he laughed softly, his voice rumbling low against her ear, “course, Bobby.” She sighed as he added, “just watch ya knee.”

She still felt terrible about kneeing him in the groin that morning. Hopefully he knew it had been an accident. “I _am_ sorry about that.”

Not a moment later, she felt him turn his head, his lips on her forehead as he rubbed his hand against her arm, “s’alright, sweetheart.” She smiled before he added, “probably forgive ya one day.”

 _Tch_ , she rolled her eyes against her lids as she felt his chest rise and fall with deep breaths. _Wow_ , she thought. _He falls asleep quick_. She bit back a sigh of disappointment— _don’t be ridiculous, Poppylan_. It was late and silly of her to want to stay up talking to him. He’d humored her with some pillow talk—that should be enough. She listened to the soft whir of the fridge from across the apartment that she’d quickly come to love as a person new to the city living on her own. The white noise helped to distract her from the sound of her neighbors on the occasion they were up later than she was and from cars that passed on the road below, the sound traveling up the side of the building with ease. Besides Granny and the family memories she had of living in the town, that was one of the things she missed the most about Moonbright: the sound of nature abundant all around, slight changes in what she could hear depending on the time of day or night, even the season. She’d bought a white noise machine when she’d first moved to the city, but in the short months she’d been here, she’d come to be comfortable sleeping only by the sound of the fridge.

Poppy took another couple of deep breathes, trying to slow her heartrate—being this close to him, having him in her bed, she couldn’t deny it excited her. And thinking back to what they’d been doing less than an hour ago…she blushed. A moment later, she felt Tora tighten his grip on her. She waited, but he was still. His breathing still slow, steady. Had she imagined it? She listened closely, her ear to his chest as his heart sped up on an inhale, and there it was again. His fingers around her bottom, his hand on her elbow, pulling her almost unnoticeably closer. Maybe he did like being held, she smiled against his skin, opening her eyes to the darkness of the room. She looked out the window, watched the tops of the trees across the street moving in the river’s breeze, shadowy silhouettes that looked like feathers brushing the sky. She felt Tora moving under the covers as he slipped his right leg away from the press of her knee, keeping his torso still against her, his foot landing on the wood floor with a soft thump. With one last press of his lips to her hair, he turned his head from her where he had been resting his cheek, facing the other direction toward the archway beside the bed. She frowned slightly—did he need to get up? Maybe he needed to use the bathroom. _Jeez, Poppylan_ , she realized suddenly, _you didn’t even offer him water_. Maybe he was too warm, though—he still hadn’t pulled the covers up, and _shoot_ , she realized, the bed was probably too short for him. No wonder he was uncomfortable.

“Hey,” she murmured against his chest, feeling him jump slightly in surprise, his breath hitching for a second. “Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you,” she said, keeping her voice soft in the quiet dark. “You sure this is okay? You seem…uncomfortable,” she said hesitantly.

He let out a sigh, “nah, sweetheart. M’okay.” She nodded against his chest, but he didn’t put his leg back under the covers, kept his head turned the other direction.

She started to remove her arm and leg from his body, withdrawing to move closer to the wall, “if this is too warm, I can m—”

Suddenly his hand tightened around her elbow, his other arm clutching her body to his. “Stay,” he said, a soft plea in his voice.

She nodded against him, relaxing her arm and leg back into his body as he pressed his lips to her head again. “If you need anything, will you let me know?” she said, listening as a car passed outside the building.

“Mmm,” he nodded against her head. “Sweet dreams, Bobby.” She smiled, letting her eyes drift shut.

*

Poppy blinked her eyes open, confused at the darkness of the room. She hardly ever woke in the middle of the night, maybe she was thirsty? No, she realized a moment later—the room felt different, the air thick, settling heavy over the bed. She had drifted from Tora in her sleep, wrapped in the blankets and closer to the wall than she’d started. Or, _no_ , she thought, glancing to her left. The wall was the same distance away. Poppy sat up, looking at the shape of him in the dark, uncovered. Tora had moved further from her, she realized, his body practically off the bed. In fact, his leg still hung off the bed, disappearing over the edge. Had he kept it there the whole night?

As she leaned forward to untangle her legs, feeling bad for stripping him from the comforter, she heard him gasp. Poppy whipped around, her eyes widening in the near-pitch black of the room, finding his face—eyes squeezed shut, his jaw rigid with tension. One hand lay across his chest, balled in a tight fist up by his throat. She watched as his arms flexed in sleep, never fully relaxing as he reacted to whatever he could see behind his closed lids.

In the dim light from outside, she could see faint beads of sweat dotting his forehead, his hairline. As she watched him, his body shook, and she heard him shudder around a gasp. Poppy froze, her hands fisted in the comforter, lips parting and eyes wide—had she imagined that? She reached a hand toward him before stopping herself—if he was having a nightmare, that might not be the best way to wake him. A moment later, he gasped again, the fist by his face clenching as she watched the muscles in his arms ripple, his legs drawing up slightly as he seemed to curl in on himself toward the edge of the bed.

“Tora.”

She watched as his eyes flew open, almost no time elapsing between the sound of her voice curving around the R in his name before he was up, the foot on the bed swinging around to plant on the floor beside the other, his butt rising from the mattress into a slight squat, his body angled toward the open archway, a fist drawn up close to his face and the fingertips of his other hand braced against the bed as he panted shallowly.

“Tora,” she said again, softer, a hand reached tentatively toward his shoulder, still hesitant to touch him. He turned to face her halfway, his fist lowered slightly down to his neck.

“Poppylan?” He glanced around quickly, as though he’d forgotten he’d spent the night at her place before slumping back into the mattress as he released his fist, palms coming to press into the bed on either side of his body, his back hunched as he curled forward, hanging his chin against his chest. She watched him take a couple of deep breaths, but could see his silhouette trembling, could feel the faint vibrations from her side of the bed. “Sorry, sweetheart,” he murmured, “didn’t mean to wake ya.”

She scooted closer to him, opening her hips around his, threading her legs through the spaces between his torso and each of his arms. She pressed her palms to his back, feeling the damp material along his spine. He’d sweat through his shirt. Poppy swallowed thickly as she brought her hands to the hem—it must have been a terrible nightmare for him to have reacted so strongly, so viscerally in sleep. She slowly peeled his shirt up from the skin at his lower back, still damp in the cool air of the apartment. “Is it okay if I take this off? You’ll catch cold,” she murmured, leaning her head up toward his as her fingers stilled. The silence of the apartment settled around them as the whir of the fridge clicked off. She rested her chin against his shoulder blade as a couple moments passed, her head bobbing with the rise and fall of his back. 

Finally, he nodded on an exhale as he brought his palms up to rub her knees, raising his arms briefly for Poppy to pull the shirt over his head before she took the material and spread it out lightly over the end of the bed. Poppy swallowed, rubbing her hands up across the broad expanse of his shoulders where his skin darkened into the designs she knew were there but couldn’t make out clearly in the darkness, his back entirely in shadow. She bit her lip as she considered what she was about to do. He had yet to see her unclothed—she knew the rain that had plastered her dress to her skin the other night had turned the material practically see-through, had seen the way his eyes raked hungrily over her barely-hidden figure. And if the times they’d spent together on the couch were any indication at all, she knew he wanted her… _like that_. Poppy blushed thinking back to the way his hands had moved over her body, like he couldn’t get enough of her. She’d never thought of herself as desirable, had always assumed Julri just wanted sex for the act itself—not for her. But with Tora…he seemed to want _her_ , like sex might just be an added bonus, like there were other ways to be intimate, like he just wanted to be close to her.

Steeling herself, Poppy pulled her shirt up, tugging her arms through the holes so that the material hung around her throat like a makeshift scarf. She shifted it until the loose material hung beneath her hair down her back, then wiggled closer to Tora, circling her arms around his stomach and drawing him back against her own until her skin was pressed to his. He was still damp, and she felt him stiffen at her touch. “Bobby?” he said quietly, his voice raising around a question as he made to look over his shoulder at her. She quickly lifted a hand, reaching up to touch his chin, hindering his ability to face her.

“Mm-mmm,” she hummed softly, bringing her hand back down, settling into a soft embrace around his middle. As he stilled, she moved her arms up, stroking his chest in slow circles from his sternum outward across his pectoral muscles, her fingers dipping slightly into the skin around his armpits before returning to the center of his chest. She took deep breaths against his back and after a few moments, felt him slowly relax into her touch. Poppy felt a blush spread down her face, her chest. Somehow—she wasn’t sure why, but somehow—this contact felt much more intimate than having his face between her thighs, his mouth, his tongue against the damp crotch of her underwear as he’d looked deep into her eyes. _Oh jeez_ , thinking of that wasn’t helping though. 

“Bobby,” he murmured, his voice resonating through his back where her face pressed against him.

“Mmm,” she hummed, hands still stroking his chest.

“No complaints here, but what’re ya doin’,” he asked softly.

She smiled against the tattoo at the center of his back, pressing her lips gently to the skin which had dried save for the inner-most dip along his spine. “Skin-to-skin contact,” she said, “helps to activate the parasympathetic nervous system.”

He was silent for a moment before saying, “which is…?” his voice trailing off in question.

“It’s the opposite of the body’s fight-or-flight mechanism,” she said. “Helps calm you down. Massages help, too,” she pressed her palms meaningfully against his chest as she continued rubbing circles on his skin. “And,” she said, moving her hand up until her shoulder was tucked against the back of his armpit, tracing his lips lightly with two of her fingers, “so does touching your lips.” Her fingers whispered against his mouth for a moment, the thin skin so soft—could feel as he smiled before he brought a hand up to catch her fingers, pressing a kiss to her palm. Holding the back of her hand, his fingers laced between hers, he brought her palm to rest over the left side of his chest. She leaned her cheek between his shoulder blades, resting against him for a few minutes as her other hand continued to rub circles against his torso, feeling as his heartrate calmed.

A car passed outside, startling a cloud of birds from the treetops across the street. Slowly, she reached up with her free hand, drawing her fingers across his forehead a couple times back and forth. She felt him chuckle, his back moving slightly against her chest. “And what’s that do, Bobby?” he asked, sounding amused.

She smiled again, her lips moving against his skin as she kissed his spine once. He was still a little damp, “oh, this is just to wipe away the bad dreams,” she explained, bringing her hand back down his body to circle the center of his chest again. He laughed gently, shaking against her chest.

“I see.” A few long moments passed before he spoke again. “Bobby.”

“Mmm?”

He paused before murmuring, his voice hoarse, barely above a whisper. “Can I hold ya?”

She swallowed. It’d felt so natural to remove her shirt before, to press her bare body to his in an effort to calm him. And, she could admit to herself, it’d been calming for her, too—no barrier between them, the heat of his back, his body, safe in her arms, her bed. But if he was to hold her, it’d mean allowing him to see her in the faint light of the window, would mean baring herself not just to his back. She’d never shared herself like that with anyone before, not even Julri when he’d pushed. Heck, not even Erdene in the fitting rooms when they went shopping—her friend the complete opposite, feeling completely comfortable stripping down to nothing in front of Poppy. But Tora wasn’t Julri, and she knew he wouldn’t push because he _hadn’t_ yet, even when given the opportunity. She thought for another moment before nodding against his back. When he didn’t move, she whispered, “yes.”

Tora drew the hand he had been holding up to his mouth, kissing her palm again before slowly sliding from her arms off the bed. Poppy scooted back on the mattress, hesitating a moment before deciding to remove the shirt from around her neck, tossing it lightly to the end of the bed where his rested. She untangled the covers, opening them as Tora turned to face her, climbing slowly back into bed beside her. His face was mostly in shadow, she could just make out the shape of his nose, the shine of his eyes as he laid down beside her. He turned onto his side facing her, extending his arms until his fingers met her skin, inviting her toward him. “Come here, sweetheart.”

She drew her right elbow up against his chest, pressing her palm over his heart again before wrapping her left arm over his side, hugging him to her. His lips pressed against the top of her head as he tightened his arms around her, squeezing her flush against his torso, one of his palms stroking down her bare back as the other rested on the back of her shorts. She nudged one of her thighs forward against his leg, the hair on his shins coarse against her skin as he parted his knees for her for the second time that night. Poppy slipped her leg between his, tucking her heel against his calf so that their bodies were a tangled knot of limbs beneath the comforter. She closed her eyes against his neck, listening to his breathing as it evened out against her hair.

“Do you want to talk about it?” she whispered before pressing her lips to his skin.

He inhaled deeply, his fingers tightening his hold on her just so. “M’okay, sweetheart,” he said, swallowing. “Just some bad memories.”

She frowned— _bad memories_. Not just dreams, memories. Things in his past that broke him into a cold sweat, even in the safety of her apartment, the comfort of her bed, her arms. She nodded against his chest. “If you change your mind…” she trailed off, not wanting to push him, but needing him to know she would listen if he ever felt compelled to share. They’d only known each other a week, after all, she reminded herself again. _A week and a day_ , she tilted her head, kissing his throat before she curled back against him, letting herself drift surrounded by his scent, his arms, the soft rise and fall of his chest pressed against hers.

*

Poppy blinked awake, watery morning light filtered through the window as she took stock of her surroundings. One of Tora’s arms was draped down her back, palm pressed against the dip of her spine and fingers resting along her underwear. He breathed deeply, face turned towards her where she lay partly across his chest, her bare breasts pressing against his torso. Her bare…her eyes flew open from the haze of sleep as she remembered taking her shirt off, taking _his_ shirt off. Their shirts. Off. It had felt like the right thing to do in the calm of her dark bedroom but in the light of day, she felt completely exposed. Poppy felt her skin flush quickly from her face down past her neck, her chest, but she couldn’t bring herself to move as she stared up at him. He looked so peaceful now, so different from the shaking man whom she’d first fallen asleep beside just a handful of hours ago. And younger, his forehead smooth as he breathed softly, a whisp of his hair fluttering with each exhale. Poppy tilted her head against his chest, letting her face rest in the dip of his armpit as she looked at the tattoo on his neck.

The cuts from earlier that week were nearly healed over—new skin dotted over the black ink. The swirling design looked familiar, something tugging at the back of her mind, but she couldn’t place it. It wasn’t the first time she’d found herself wondering about his ink, the meaning behind the art adorning such large swathes of his skin. _One hundred hours, give or take_. She almost turned her head to look down the length of his body before thinking better of it, not wanting to wake him with her movements quite yet. She’d hoped to catch a glimpse of the leg tattoo that had come as a surprise the other night— _some other time_. From the little she’d seen before he’d caught her gaping, turning the full power of his smirk on her, it’d looked like a tiger wrapped his leg. _Fitting_ , she smiled. _Tora._

As though she’d spoken his name aloud, he suddenly shifted, the arm down her back drawing her closer, his palm pressing, fingers squeezing her butt as he sighed in his sleep. Poppy could feel her blush deepen as she bit her lip against a smile, imagining what they must look like from the open doorway. She could feel herself grow damp at his touch, even in sleep, the gentle possessive nature of the placement of his hand, his arm. Like she was his and—she realized with a swell in her chest—he was hers, her leg tucked around his thigh, torso stretched across his body. Their bare chests pressed to each other, only the thin cotton of his briefs and her boyshorts separating them.

Her heartrate quickened, though, at the thought of what would happen when he _did_ finally wake. She was shirtless, hadn’t intended for him to see her like this quite yet. Was hyper-aware of how soft her body was against his, the swell of her stomach against his abdominal muscles—so defined, how was he so lean, so… _cut_ , the word she’d heard Erdene use to describe her latest exploit came to mind. Poppy wondered how long it would take to extricate herself from his hold, whether she would have enough time to grab her shirt from the end of the bed before he woke up, assuming it hadn’t fallen off or gotten tangled in the covers. He’d had such an immediate reaction when she’d woken him from his nightmare—but maybe that was because she’d been _trying_ to wake him. She could feel her palms begin to sweat, _shoot, just do it, Poppylan_. She inhaled deeply, trying to calm her heartrate, readying herself to move as quickly as possible, when she felt him shift again. And then he was moving in earnest, rolling onto his side, pinning her against him as he drew his other arm up from his side and around her back, palm resting between her shoulders in the same position they’d fallen asleep in the second time a couple hours ago. Except now, she could very clearly feel him pressed hard, erect against her hip. He breathed deeply, his exhale blowing against the top of her hair. There was no way she could squirm away toward the end of the bed now, no way she could reach her shirt in time.

She felt him groan low, a deep rumble in his chest that sent shivers down her spine and straight to her core. When she looked up, his amber eyes were blinking open at her, heavy with sleep. She couldn’t help but smile—he looked so innocent. Cute, even. He yawned, squeezing her even tighter against him, moving his hand up to the small of her back when he seemed to realize where he’d been holding her, “sorry,” he murmured.

“It’s okay,” she said softly, “felt nice.” When he smirked at her, she rolled her eyes. “Because you’re warm,” she clarified—not _technically_ a lie. “You insisted on kicking off the covers again, so…” she trailed off as she felt him laugh.

“Sure, Bobby, whatever ya say,” he said as she felt him angle his hips back and away from her own.

“Hey, Tora,” she asked.

“Mmm?”

“I’ve never, um,” she took a deep breath, staring at his throat as she watched him swallow, “would you mind if I…if I put my shirt on?”

He looked down at her, seeming to take in whatever look was on her face as his eyebrows drew together and he blinked away the last of the sleep that’d clung to his face. “Course, Bobby,” he said, “here.” She watched as he closed his eyes, pulling an arm up from around her to lay a hand over his face as he rolled away from her, lying flat on his back again. Her heart swelled at the gesture—how did he always know exactly what she needed? She tugged the sheet up to her chest, sitting up quickly, feeling the urge to fall back towards him as her skin cooled almost immediately after leaving his side. She shook her head slightly, patting around the blankets, unable to find her shirt. Her fingers found the shirt she had removed from Tora and, after a moment’s hesitation, she pulled it on over her head. He wouldn’t mind, she told herself, and if he did, she’d only have it on for a little. It’s not like she could stretch it out the way Julri had complained the few times she’d worn his—she was swimming in Tora’s. The man was massive.

“You good, Bobby?” he asked, “gotta take a piss.”

She huffed his name—why were men so gross sometimes?—and he laughed from behind his hand.

“No but, really, sweetheart. I’m fuckin’ burstin’—ya were on my bladder all night.”

Poppy rolled her eyes, smacking his leg lightly as she climbed from the bed. “You loved it.” She watched as he smiled, his large palm still held over his eyes, before she turned to walk toward the kitchen.

“Oi, Bobby!”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m decent.” She listened as he scrambled from the bed and, before she knew what was happening, she was in the air, squeaking as he spun her once before planting a kiss on her cheek, “Tora!” 

He sped past her to the bathroom, slamming the door behind him, shouting a muffled “my bad, Bobby!” as she heard him flip up the toilet seat. Poppy sighed, but couldn’t help smiling as she walked to the stove, grabbing her kettle to fill with water. She didn’t know what the day held for him, but a part of her hoped that he’d be able to stay a little while before she had to deal with the jerk who’d been calling her incessantly since last week. When she turned from the sink, she nearly dropped the kettle—Tora stood leaning against the archway watching her with a small smile on his face.

“I like it better on ya,” he murmured, nodding toward the shirt.

She blushed, very aware of the way the thin fabric clung to her breasts before draping loosely over the rest of her torso, hanging down to her thighs. He held her gaze, his expression unreadable as she took a breath, swallowed. He pushed off the archway, slowly unfolding his arms from across his bare chest as he stepped toward her. “Did you want some—”

He brought one palm up to cup her face, fingers burrowing in her hair beside her ear as his other hand deftly transferred the kettle from her loose grip to the counter, amber eyes locked on hers. He stepped forward, one foot on either side of her own as he closed the distance between their torsos, the hand that had been on the kettle moving to her waist, pulling her gently against his body as he angled her head up, bending to press his lips to hers. His mouth moved against hers slowly, and she melted into him, arms circling his waist as she returned the kiss. Poppy stroked her hands up and down his back, feeling the dip of his spine where she’d traced his sweat just a handful of hours ago in the darkness of the bedroom. She moaned into his mouth as his hand moved from her waist further around to press against her bottom, pulling her closer, closer. She opened her mouth to him, one of her hands pulling around to his front, rising up his side and under his arm until she cupped his jaw. She could feel every movement of his muscles as his mouth continued to move against hers, the sound of their deep breathing intermingling in the space of her small kitchen. He pulled away slowly, resting his forehead against hers, his exhales long, slow against her chin, his eyes flicking back and forth between hers.

“I’ve gotta get goin’, sweetheart,” he murmured, and she nodded against his head, closing her eyes briefly before she looked back up at him, drawing her head back and letting her hand fall to his chest.

“You need your shirt back?”

He smirked at her, “nah, Bobby. Meant what I said,” he dropped one more kiss to her lips before stepping away to walk back through the living room. She watched him for a moment as he moved to his bag by the front door before she picked up the kettle again, placing it on the stove.

“If you want a shower, there are towels in the bathroom closet,” she called to him, turning to open the cupboard. She thought for a second, surveying the shelf full of novelty mugs—Julri had hated them, called her childish for liking the silly things—before choosing one with a cartoon elephant on the front above the words _your argument is irrelephant_. When the water had boiled and Poppy was pouring it over the tea bag she’d selected, Tora walked back into the kitchen, dressed and eyes on his phone. He glanced up at what she was doing, smirking lightly as he watched her. He stepped over to her and, placing a hand lightly on her waist, ducked his head to kiss her temple. He stood back up, leaning against the counter beside her as she blew on the steaming water, holding the mug between her palms as she watched him pull the strawberry from his hair before quickly doing it up into a bun. “Got an assignment that’s gonna take longer than I’d hoped,” he said, folding his arms and pressing his lips together.

She nodded her head, trying not to feel disappointed. He had a life separate from her, just like she had a life separate from him. That didn’t mean he didn’t want to spend time with her, she reminded herself. “So…I’ll see you Monday?” she asked, glancing up at him.

He smiled, nodding. “Time should I bring Quince ‘round?”

Poppy thought for a second, tilting her head to the side. She normally got to work before 9 o’clock, but that might be a little early for a meeting with a potential new client. This contract was important—she needed to start things off on the right foot. “Ten?”

“Sounds good, Bobby,” he said, reaching over to pinch her cheek, “cute fuckin’ hamster with ya mug. Fuck,” he smiled.

She twisted her face out of his grasp as he laughed. “You know you shouldn’t pinch people,” she huffed.

“Can’t help it, Bob,” he laughed again, “ya fuckin’ adorable.” She rolled her eyes half-heartedly, her chest swelling with warmth as she followed him to the front door where he scooped up his overnight bag, toeing on his sneakers—so large beside her own. He glanced over her head as he unlocked the deadbolt, pointing toward her balcony with his phone in his hand, “make sure ya lock that at night.” She frowned slightly, nodding her head. She usually remembered to, but even if she didn’t, she was on the fifth floor of the building—it wasn’t exactly a point of entry she had to worry about. “And lock this behind me,” he said, patting the bolt as he pulled the front door open, leaning back toward her to drop a quick kiss to her lips, his thumb swiping her chin once and then he was heading down the steps.

She watched until he was out of sight before closing and locking the door, shaking her head slightly. He sure was preoccupied with safety, but maybe that’s what came with being a bodyguard.

Poppy allowed herself ten minutes to drink her tea, sitting at her laptop listening to her _let loose and rock your caboose_ playlist while reviewing the proposal Mr. Lam had sent with the expectations he had for the ghostwriter. When she’d finished the drink, she closed the laptop, padding across her apartment to grab her phone, sinking onto the couch to read the messages Julri had sent her last night. She swiped her finger lightly across the large crack down the center of the screen, her eyebrows drawn together and upper lip twisting under her nose. At first, she’d been saddened by his texts, the way he’d apologized profusely almost getting to her. She’d made the mistake of accepting his first call, and he hadn’t let up since, the stupid cheating jerk. She was angry now, though. He’d nearly ruined her night with Tora—and how special a night it’d turned out to be. She smiled as she rubbed her hand on the couch cushion absent-mindedly before sighing. At least the phone still _worked_ , she thought, carefully unlocking it around the fragmented glass. But shoot, how was she going to afford a new one? Maybe she could glue it back together? Or maybe packing tape…there was probably some still in a box somewhere from the move. Poppy thought for a minute as her finger hovered between the phone icon and the messages icon—she wasn’t in the mood to hear his voice, heck, she wasn’t in the mood to hear from him period. Finally, she hit the messages, deciding it’d probably be easier and hopefully less infuriating to read his words than to hear his stupid voice.

@Unknown: Pops, please pick up.

@Unknown: I need to talk to you. It’s over with her, I swear.

@Unknown: Pops, I swear. It only happened a couple of times.

@Unknown: She doesn’t mean anything, I love you, baby. You!

@Unknown: I know you’re screening my calls. If it goes to voicemail after two rings it means you sent me there. Come on, Pops. Think.

@Unknown: Pick up the damn phone.

@Unknown: Poppy, please. I just want to talk.

@Unknown: Sorry for being short in that last voicemail, I just need to hear your voice.

@Unknown: I can fix this. Let me fix it.

@Unknown: Pops, please let me fix this.

@Unknown: Don’t freak out, she was just over to grab her stuff. It’s over, I swear.

@Unknown: Pops, please. I swear she was only here for a second.

@Unknown: Nothing happened!

Poppy frowned. Had he really been stupid enough to leave her a voicemail where she’d be able to hear the other woman in the background? No way was she listening to those stupid messages. Erdene was right—he was a dickwad. Poppy tossed her phone onto the couch, quickly standing up and striding to the bathroom. She needed a shower and to brush her teeth. The texts had left a bad taste in her mouth. As she turned on the hot water, she brought Tora’s shirt up under nose, inhaling deeply, letting the scent of him surround her for a moment before removing it gently and folding it over the rack beside the shower, smoothing out the wrinkles before hopping into the tub. Poppy took her time, shaving and exfoliating, even washing her hair—the whole shebang. It’d been a little while since she’d taken time for herself. She pumped a little bit of the unscented soap Erdene had given her onto her tattoo—it was healing quite well, though the skin was still a bit raised. She’d need to get in touch with Cable to see how much longer she needed to wash it with the special soap.

As she toweled off, Poppy worried her lip between her teeth, thinking of Tora. She’d yet to tell him about Julri. She wasn’t sure how he’d react, but…maybe the look in his eye last night when he’d realized someone was harassing her had been answer enough. She walked back to her bedroom, hesitating a moment before turning to her mirror and opening her towel. She closed her eyes briefly, _pretend you’re Tora. See what he sees_. When she opened them, she ran her eyes up and down the reflection, but all she could see was a short, chubby girl. Her face had rounded a little since moving to the city—probably from stress-eating chocolate and drinking so much wine with Erdene. Without the support of an underwire, her breasts sat lower on her chest than she’d like, and she didn’t really appreciate the way her back ached at the end of the day. Every day. She sighed, looking down at the faint stretch marks along her lower belly, her thighs. The dips in her hips. Poppy frowned at herself, maybe she should start running. She still hadn’t asked Jacob about that keto diet. And she could always ask Tora, though something told her he wouldn’t exactly be enthusiastic in her pursuit of losing weight. _That should make you smile_ , she realized, but her eyebrows wouldn’t budge from pulling toward the center of her face. Poppy blushed, looking down at the hair between her legs. How much was too much? Would he like her as she was? Maybe she should shave. Erdene said she waxed hers…maybe she could go with her sometime? She’d never had to worry about that before—suddenly Poppy wrapped the towel back under her arms, holding the cloth tight against her damp skin as she took deep, calming inhales, one hand coming up to trace her lips with her fingers as she moved to the dresser, pulling out some clothes for the day.

It looked sunny out, maybe she’d paint on the roof—it’d been a while since she’d put a brush to canvas. Or she could read, she thought, glancing at the bookshelf in the other room. Poppy smiled, thinking of the way Tora had laughed, hadn’t had an issue at all with her smut. _Not like Julri, that jerk_. The look of disgust he’d given her when he’d accidentally stumbled across _The Secret Garden_ had been enough to make her hide them in a box under the kitchen sink where she knew he’d never look. And he’d teased her incessantly about it, but it was different, she noted, from the way that Tora teased. Julri’s was meant to hurt her, mean-spirited in his jabs about her interests, her likes. But Tora…it was like he was trying to get her to blush, seeing what would get her to tease him back. _Playful_ , she thought. _And flirty_ , definitely flirty.

Before she could talk herself out of it, Poppy dug out a blank canvas from the back of her closet and picked up the easel from the corner of the room to head up to the roof. She was feeling inspired.

*

Poppy dipped her brush in the water that had quickly darkened to a deep blue-black since coming up to the roof, withdrawing it and wiping the bristles against the edge of the easel to remove the excess water before she stepped back to inspect the canvas. She smiled—it was coming along nicely, a relief after having taken so many months off from her art. But now, with Julri firmly in her past—at least, in terms of the way _she_ thought of their relationship—she felt free, a weight off her shoulders that she hadn’t realized had been stifling her ability to create. Or maybe the renewed flow of her creative juices was inspired by the man who had quickly taken up residence in her mind for most hours of the day and many of her nights. She sighed, considering where to take the canvas from here, just as her phone buzzed. Poppy’s fist clenched around the brush reflexively—she’d been trying her hardest to ignore the buzzing, stupid Julri. She’d just wanted some time to herself _without_ having to think of him. If she was going to get any more painting done today, she realized, she’d need to turn the darn thing off—not exactly something she _wanted_ to do, considering she wouldn’t be able to see any texts Tora might send her, but it was a price she was willing to pay. At least for a couple hours.

Poppy fished her phone out of her back pocket and glanced down at the screen just as she was about to hit the power button. She had three messages, none from Julri—she couldn’t help the grin that broke out over her face as she quickly clicked on the ones from Tora.

@Tora: forgot to show ya this. thought of ya

@Tora: [image]

She quickly tapped on the image, frowning as the screen failed to register her touch the first couple of times she tried to open it. Had the crack gotten bigger? When the image finally loaded, her mouth fell open around a smile as she took in the photo he’d sent her—a field of poppy flowers, the petals illuminated by sunlight. It looked as though he’d crouched to take the photo, the effect made the poppies look endless. She couldn’t help but think of her dad—another sign?

@Poppylan: Beautiful!

She exited out to the rest of her messages, quickly tapping on her chain with Erdene.

@Erdene: So? You decide?

Poppy sighed, thinking about how she should respond. They’d talked on the phone earlier in the day as Poppy’d taken a break from her painting, sitting against the short ledge that rimmed the roof of the building and staring out at the treetops across the street as she’d told her friend about the date on Friday. She’d been unable to stop smiling as she described the kiss in the rain or the way he’d dented the roof of his car, choosing to keep some things to herself—namely, the way he’d touched her, the condoms, the cake, or basically all of Saturday. It was fine, _not a lie_ , she rationalized. Some things weren’t meant to be shared—she had a feeling Tora wasn’t the type to disclose intimate details like that with other people. And, besides, Erdene had wanted to know when she’d slept with him and, technically, they hadn’t had sex. _Yet_. Poppy smiled. Erdene had barely been able to keep her excitement tamped down, practically shouting down Poppy over the phone that they needed to do a double date—she _needed_ to meet this mystery man. But Poppy wasn’t sure if Tora was the type who’d want to do a double date— _you should ask him_ , she thought, quickly typing back to her friend. She’d never been able to do this with Julri, seeing as Erdene hated the man and, besides, he’d never wanted to hang out with her socially around other people.

@Poppylan: I’ll ask him—calm down, jeez.

Erdene’s text bubbles immediately appeared and Poppy bit the inside of her mouth around a smile. Her friend could be quite persistent. She burst out laughing when the texts came rolling in.

@Erdene: text me his answer ASAP if u care about me at all!!

@Erdene: and yea, thats a fkn guilt trip idgaf

@Erdene: pulling out all the stops cause BITCH he dented the fkn ROOF?!?!?! 🥵🤯🥴 cant stop thinking about it

@Erdene: u went 0 to 100

@Poppylan: 🙄 🙄 I’ll keep you posted, thirsty bitch

@Erdene: u know it 😏

Poppy’s phone buzzed in her hand as she replied to Erdene, still shaking with silent laughter as she tapped on the banner, her face immediately falling.

@Unknown: Outside your place, can we talk?

The phone slipped from her fingers as her mouth fell open, and she managed to catch it just before it hit the cement roof. She couldn’t believe him, showing up at her home unannounced after she’d been crystal clear she didn’t want to talk? How had she ever dated him? And for so long? Poppy picked up her keys from the ledge of the building, pulling open the door to the stairwell and taking them two at a time, jumping onto the platforms with barely contained anger. _How_ dare _he?_

She slammed open the door to the fire exit on the side of the building which led into the lot, glancing at the lines where Tora’s car had parked over just a handful of hours ago. She needed to channel his bodyguard energy, she decided, her fist shaking around the paintbrush she still clenched.

“YOU!” she marched over to the pedestrian gate that Julri stood on the other side of, watching as he quickly spun to face her, where he’d been eyeing the gate keypad. “You have _no_ right to be here, you cheating scumbag. Stop _texting_ me, stop _calling_ me, just stop! I don’t want to hear from you, don’t want to talk to you! Here,” she whipped out her phone as he stared at her in horror.

“Baby, please. Pops, I fucked up. I just want to—”

After a couple of angry attempts at unlocking the stupid phone, she finally pulled up his contact, listed as Unknown in her phone since she’d deleted his number. She pulled up the settings and hit _block_ before holding it up to him. “Should’ve done that when you first texted me, you jerk!” she spit across the gate.

“Poppy?”

Poppy blinked in confusion, someone had said her name but it hadn’t been Julri even though his mouth was gaping. She recognized the voice, though. A man with reddish-brown hair stepped quickly out of the security booth, running over to stand a couple paces from her, a wary look on his face. _Mr. Special?_

“Gyu? What…” she blinked before turning back to Julri. “Go the hell home, Julri. You’re not wanted here. Don’t make me call Dene,” she added, satisfied when his eyes opened wider. Why couldn’t he take _her_ as seriously as he took her friend? As seriously as he took literally everyone else? At the same time, she was grateful for Erdene’s fierce aura, able to scare her ex, even when she wasn’t physically present.

“Baby, can we—”

“Hey, man,” Gyu stepped forward, straightening his back and rolling his shoulders, “the lady said bounce, so bounce.”

If she weren’t so angry, Poppy would’ve smiled—he still had her back. If she weren’t so angry, she also would’ve wondered what he was doing in the security booth of her building and where the heck Trevor was. But in the moment, she was just grateful for the additional assist.

Julri opened his mouth around a retort, but Gyu quickly cut him off, holding up his phone in his hand and waving it at the fence, “got back-up on the way, and you don’t wanna be around when he gets here, man. Trust me.” _Backup?_ Though she wouldn’t exactly call Trevor a good contingency plan, Poppy kept her face schooled in a frown, which wasn’t really difficult. She watched as Julri stepped back from the fence before taking one last look at Poppy. He shook his head, quickly shoving his hands in his pockets and hurrying back to a car parked on the other side of the street. They watched in silence as he climbed in, sparing Poppy one last glance through the driver’s window before he slowly pulled a U-turn, needing to back up several times as he leaned forward in his seat to peer down the length of the hood. She rolled her eyes as he finally drove away, turning to look at Gyu.

Poppy took a deep breath—she needed time to decompress and didn’t want to take her anger out on the nice man who’d helped her. But she was really confused. Why was he here? She didn’t know what to say, and after watching her with an uncertain look on his face, Gyu tucked his phone back in his pocket, saying, “didn’t actually have backup,” with a shrug. Then, “this is weird, huh?”

She nodded, tilting her head as she twisted the paintbrush in her hands. “I mean…thank you. For your help,” she said, slightly shaking her head, “but…Chevy’s?”

He chuckled, turning to walk back toward the security booth as Poppy trailed behind him by a couple of paces.

“Yeah, I’ve been, uh,” he scratched his head as he slid the door open, collapsing into the worn-looking stool of the small booth, “looking for a change of pace, I guess you could say. And,” he continued, gesturing around the inside of the booth, “job opened up, thought I’d try my hand at private security. Definitely got the body for it.” He smiled at her, lips tight as he glanced at the laptop on the desk in front of him, letting out a slow exhale through his nose. “But hey,” he said, turning to face her and pulling out his phone, “got a new gate code app.” He flipped the phone in his hand, nodding toward the fence. “Once it’s up next week it’ll be more secure than that piece of junk _and_ way easier to use.”

Poppy blinked at him. There was a lot to process and—realizing she’d left her canvas, her easel, all of her belongings on the roof—decided it was too much to worry about right now. “Well, thanks,” she said, turning slowly to head back to the building, “good to see you.” He smiled at her, waving as she made her way back toward the steps—she wouldn’t be able to get in through the fire escape—the outside of the door didn’t have a handle. Suddenly though, she remembered something, spinning to look at Gyu who was looking at his phone, “hey!” she called out, waiting until he looked up to continue. “You know Tora. You called him your badass friend.” It wasn’t a question, but she stared at him until he nodded. “How?”

He shrugged slightly before calling over to her, “grew up together.” Poppy nodded—it seemed to fit with what Tora had said, maybe a bit more specific. Still not much to go off of at all, though. She’d ask Tora later—it was a little too…strange, she figured, that Gyu— _Tora’s childhood friend?_ —happened to be working at her building now. And she didn’t really buy his excuse. As she rounded the corner to the outdoor hallway, Poppy glanced back at him, and, seeing the man engrossed in his phone again, decided not to worry about it until after Monday. She had a lot to prepare for, after all.

*

As she lay in bed, Poppy pulled out her phone, opening the picture Tora had sent her and running a thumb over the poppies displayed on the cracked glass. She hadn’t heard from him since the afternoon when he’d sent her the image, and she’d fought the urge to text him for the rest of the day, not wanting to be clingy. Julri had always been on her case about that, and she’d taken to texting Erdene more and more for the things that she’d always thought were meant to be shared with a partner. A significant other. At least, that’s the way the books she read and the rom coms she watched made it sound. Looking at the poppies, she knew what her dad would say: _Poppylan, you have to speak up, don’t be afraid of going after what you want_. Of course, whenever he’d spoken the words to her, she was sure he’d never intended them to be applied to situations of romance or desire. But the principle still held, she told herself, opening up her chain with Tora.

@Poppylan: How was your day?

She quickly blanked the screen, shoving the device under her pillow. Maybe if she closed her eyes, she’d fall asleep and not have to worry about him not ever texting her back until the morning when she woke up. _Who are you kidding, Poppylan_. She sighed, one hand pulling the fabric of his shirt up to her nose—she hadn’t intended to put it back on, really. She’d meant to wash it, but…it smelled just like him, and when combined with the faint scent of his hair on her pillow, it was almost like he was beside her. She ran her fingers over her lips, felt her heartrate slow—she’d see him tomorrow, in just a few short hours. No need to get worked up. Her pillow buzzed and Poppy dove a hand under it to retrieve her phone, thumbing at the screen repeatedly until she was in.

@Tora: distracting

She frowned. What kind of answer was that? Just as she was about to ask, his text bubbles appeared, so she waited.

@Tora: couldn’t stop thinkin about ya

Poppy sucked in a gasp, her hand twisting his shirt against her smile. He’d been thinking about her? So much he was distracted? She considered for a moment that he was just saying that, of course he was just saying that…

@Tora: ya in bed?

She bit the inside of her mouth to try to repress her smile as she let him know that she was indeed in bed. And then his name was flashing across her screen—he was calling her? She thumbed the answer button, quickly bringing the phone to her ear and lowering the shirt away from her mouth so he could hear her, “Tora?”

“Hey, sweetheart.”

She smiled, closing her eyes—his voice was warm, husky. Barely a murmur on the other end. What she wouldn’t give to have him in bed beside her, his arms around her, to feel his heartbeat against her cheek, the press of him against her hip. “Are you in bed?”

He chuckled, “sure. How was ya day, Bobby?”

She bit her lip—this wasn’t the time to tell him. “Could’ve been better.”

He hummed on the other end, “how so?”

She hesitated a moment before deciding to go with honesty. The hope that he’d felt the same way was too tempting to resist, “I missed you.”

“Oh yeah?” she could hear his smirk before his voice changed, dipping low into a purr, “what’d ya miss ‘bout me?”

She rolled onto her stomach, pulling one of the pillows to rest under her arms, hugging the soft material to her face. Her belly fluttered—was he…initiating something? She spoke into the fabric of the pillowcase, “I don’t know, everything?”

He laughed, “what was that, sweetheart? Everything?” She listened as he took a breath before continuing, his voice a distant rumble, “Ya gonna have to be more specific, Bobby.”

She swallowed, lifting her chin out from the fabric, remembering the way he’d cupped her butt this morning in bed, the feel of his fingers firm against her shorts. “Your hands.”

He didn’t laugh this time, his voice low as he said, “what about my hands, Bobby.” There was that hunger, an undercurrent in his throat.

“I like how they feel,” she said. “When you touch me.”

She heard him swallow on the other end, before he murmured, “close ya eyes, Bobby.” Poppy paused, listening to him breathe on the other end of the line, finally letting her eyes slip closed as she rolled onto her back. “What’re ya wearin’.”

She smiled, “your shirt.”

“Fuck,” he groaned, “ya know what seein’ ya in my shirt did ta me? Standin’ in ya kitchen barefoot with ya little fuckin’ mug ‘n shit?” She shook her head, forgetting he couldn’t see her, but he kept going anyway, “couldn’t fuckin’ think straight all the way to work—almost hit a fuckin’ pole.”

“A pole, huh?”

“Yeah, Bobby. Fuck, too sexy for ya own damn good.” She shook her head softly as he continued after a pause, “wanna taste ya again.” Poppy’s eyes flew open, her breath hitching in her throat as she remembered his face between her legs, his eyes locked on hers, his tongue on her thigh, the feel of his teeth on her skin. “Where d’ya want my hands, Bobby,” he whispered.

Poppy closed her eyes again, bringing her hand to her breast, “mmm-my chest,” she breathed, rolling a nipple between her fingers, imagining Tora on top of her, his mouth on her bare skin, tongue hot and wet. She moaned softly, her eyes flying open— _oh my god,_ had she—

“Fuck, Bobby,” Tora groaned, his voice hoarse, “talk to me.”

She blushed, breathing deeply, incredibly turned on but also embarrassed. And yet…he seemed into it, too. Poppy took a breath, “I want your mouth, your tongue…”

“Where, Bobby?” she was pretty sure she heard a zipper, and the thought that Tora was just as aroused as she was gave her confidence.

“My—” _oh jeez_ , she’d never talked like this before. What should she call it? She thought of what Tora might say, something crass… “on my t-tit.” _Oh. Oh, no_. The word felt so foreign in her mouth, wrong. But she heard Tora groan her name again.

“Holy shit, Bobby, ya always talk like that?”

She couldn’t stop the laugh that broke past her lips, “told you,” she said. “I do my research.”

He breathed a laugh at that, “fuck, sweetheart. What I gotta do to be ya lab partner?”

Poppy lowered her hand down her torso, her fingers playing around the edge of her underwear. “Well, you definitely have to pass the audition.”

“Audition?” he laughed, “shit, sweetheart. Didn’t know there’s a test.” He breathed hard, and then his voice was low again, a purr in her ear, “bet I pass.” 

She smiled, “oh yeah?”

“Mmm, definitely, sweetheart.” She closed her eyes again, as he said, “ya wearin’ anything under my shirt?”

She swallowed, “just undies.”

“Mmm, ya _undies_ , huh?” she could hear the smile on his lips, “take em off.”

Her breath caught in her throat, and then she was pressing her shoulders back into the mattress as she lifted her hips, the phone falling off the pillow onto the bed beside her as she slid the cotton fabric down her legs until the scrap of material was hooked around one of her feet. She balanced the phone between her ear and shoulder again, whispering “they’re off.”

He exhaled sharply, his voice catching as he said, “want ya to spread ya legs, Bobby. Wide enough for me to fit, ‘kay?” She nodded as she obeyed, again forgetting he couldn’t see her. “Ya ready for me?”

“Mmm,” she hummed, bringing a hand to rest on the dip of her pelvis.

“Use two fingers, sweetheart, tell me how wet ya are.”

Poppy did as he instructed, sliding her middle and ring finger between her inner lips, letting the tip of the longer digit dip inside her entrance. Slick with need, hot desire for him. She wanted him between her legs, his tongue between her thighs, no underwear. “Toraaaa,” Poppy moaned around his name, listening as his breathing hitched, “so wet, I’m so wet.”

He was breathing harder, she could tell, “fuck, Bobby. Tell me what ya taste like.”

She blinked her eyes open. He wanted her to…taste herself? She licked her lips, dry from the way she’d been panting lightly, as she brought a finger to her tongue. Huh, it wasn’t bad, she thought. Definitely not as good as Tora’d made her sound, but definitely not like what she’d always heard boys say when she’d been in school. Almost like…“like tea?”

She listened as he laughed softly, “fuck, wish I could lick ya fuckin’ fingers myself. Or better yet,” he murmured, “wanna lap ya up, Bobby.” Her heart nearly climbed up her throat at the hunger in his voice. “Ya ever been tongue fucked, sweetheart?”

 _Tongue fucked?_ It sounded so crass and yet, Poppy couldn’t stop the full-body shiver that ran down her spine at the thought of Tora doing just that. “N-no, but you knew that,” she said softly.

“Mmm,” he groaned. “Want ya to rub yaself, Bobby. Slow. I’d go slow on ya at first,” he said, and Poppy closed her eyes, dragging her fingers from her center up to her clit, pressing wet circles slowly against herself as she bit her lip around a moan. “Yeah, that’s it, sweetheart. Slow circles.” She moaned his name, hearing him breathing hard into the phone. “Shit, ya got a free hand, Bobby?”

“Mmhmmm.” Her other hand was on her hip, clenching and unclenching against her skin as her fingers sped up slightly. She knew he’d said slow, but it felt too good to go slow.

“Want ya to put a finger inside yaself, tell me what ya feel.”

Poppy slowly drew her other hand down, inserting her middle finger, pushing slowly against her walls, “tight, so wet. Touch me, Tora,” she breathed.

He moaned her name, “sweet fuck, Poppylan.”

She pushed another finger in, crying out around his name as the phone slid off her pillow, her body shuddering as she felt pulsing waves around her fingers. When her body had stilled, she withdrew her hands, quickly swiping her fingers against the sheets before she picked up her phone. “Tora?” she panted, hearing him breathing hard.

“Yeah, Bobby?” She took a couple deep breaths as her hand smoothed over his shirt, bring her legs back together under the covers. “Take it I passed?” she could hear his smirk.

Poppy rolled her eyes lightly, smiling, “mmm,” she thought, biting her lip slightly before murmuring, “solid nine.”

“A nine?” he laughed softly. “Shit, sounded like ya were enjoyin’ yaself, sweetheart.”

“I mean,” she said slowly, “have to leave room for improvement. Imagine it’s better in person,” she finished as he inhaled sharply on the other end. She hesitated, “never done that before.”

“What, touch yaself?”

“No, like…” the words caught in her throat—she couldn’t believe they’d really just done that.

He laughed softly in understanding, “well shit, me neither, sweetheart.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, Bobby. Really,” he said. _Huh_ , she thought. She’d assumed he’d done everything under the sun. It hadn’t been lost on her the way that women reacted to him—heck, even Erdene had called him a _fuckable stallion_. It was reassuring in a way, though, like maybe she wasn’t completely clueless when matched against him. Like she wasn’t totally out of her depth, like it wasn’t quite so impossible that a guy like him could want her… _like that_. Maybe she’d even be able to teach _him_ some things.

“You…doing anything tomorrow night?” she asked, trying to keep the hope out of her voice.

She heard him smile, “dinner?”

“Mmm,” she hummed, “I’d like that.”

“Why don’t I pick ya up from work?” She nodded, quickly following up with an affirmative when she remembered he couldn’t see her. “‘Kay, Bobby. S’a date.”

She smiled, “see you in the morning.”

“Yeah, sweet dreams, Bobby. Try not to dream ‘bout me too much.”

She laughed, “mmkay, Tor. Night.” The last thing she heard before she hung up was the sound of his laugh, his voice murmuring the nickname in amusement. She sighed, setting some alarms for the morning, hoping that he would be okay, that the nightmares weren’t a daily occurrence for him.

*

“Poppylan Wilkes, girl,” suddenly Erdene’s hand was around her, dragging Poppy by the arm into the conference room before she whirled around, grabbing the open collar of Poppy’s blazer and pointing at her neck. “What. The _fuck_. Are those.”

Poppy blushed, quickly pulling her blazer back into place—she’d purposely chosen something with a modest collar to hide the love bites Tora had left down her neck and at the top of her chest. She’d even found a couple on her thigh that morning when she’d tried again to scrub the last of the strawberry from her skin. The man certainly liked leaving his mark and, Poppy’d realized with a blush as she’d inspected them in the mirror, she found she quite liked that. She’d been squeezing her thighs together all morning trying to calm her excitement at the thought of seeing him again. This was a huge day for her career—she needed to focus, darn it.

“Erdeeeene,” Poppy said, slowly putting down the box of joe she’d just grabbed from the Starbucks across the street in preparation of her meeting with Noyouko—Quincey. Mr. Q. What the heck was she supposed to call him? “Chill, it’s nothing,” she turned to move out of the room—the copies of the contract and proposal were still on her desk and they were supposed to be here any minute—but Erdene quickly latched onto her shoulder.

“Please,” Erdene said, her eyes like wide blue saucers, “please tell me those are from your mystery man and that you have _fucked_ that _utter. Piece. Of. Ass,_ ” she enunciated each word with a blink and a squeeze around Poppy’s shoulders.

Poppy sighed, “Dene, I told you—”

Erdene groaned, throwing her head back to stare at the ceiling, “hey, big guy, if you’re up there, please give me patience with this bitch. I just want her to bed that beefcake.”

“Erdene!” Poppy slapped her arm lightly, quickly rushing past her friend out the door to her desk. “Mr. Noyouko will be here any second, can we _not_ right now,” she said gesturing frantically with her index finger between them as she picked up the folders from her desk with her other hand. “Besides, you’re defiling poor Pudge’s ears,” she said, gesturing toward the window behind her friend where she knew the pigeon would be perched. She clutched the folders to her chest, turning to walk back to the conference room when she nearly walked into Jacob.

“What’s this about a beefcake?” he asked, moving to stand beside Erdene. Poppy whirled around to glare at her friend who shrugged innocently.

“Why does it always end up being two on one in this office?” she pointed a finger at them, narrowing her eyes. 

“Girl, do not for a _second_ tell me you don’t want that man.”

Poppy huffed, flinging the arm holding the folders out to her side, “yes, jeez! _Of course_ I want him, Dene. Are you happy?”

“Oh yes, honey. Very,” said a voice flippantly from behind her. Poppy’s mouth fell open and she could immediately feel a blush burn across her face and down her chest as she looked at the shocked expressions on her coworkers’ faces before peering at the blonde man’s reflection in the window as he pushed through the door into the office of Giant Goldfish. “I mean,” he continued as Poppy slowly turned to face him, her mouth running dry at the humiliating first impression she’d just made with her favorite author, the man whom she was supposed to convince to work with her. “I’m not usually into the corporate vibe,” he said with a smile as he leaned against Jacob’s desk, his loafers extended in front of him as he crossed his legs and arms, “but this is definitely my kind of office.” He beamed wickedly at the three of them before his eyes finally came to rest on Poppy, taking in her wide eyes, bright red face, the folders clutched in her hand, her arm still half-raised beside her. “Tora,” he said, holding her gaze, “I take it all back, honey. You were right.” Finally, he turned to half-face the large man who had followed him through the door. “Now, don’t get used to that,” Mr. Noyouko waved at the larger man with one hand, his elbow propped against the arm still folded across his chest before turning to look conspiratorially back at Erdene and Jacob, “he’s only ever right once a year.”

But Poppy didn’t hear the rest of what Mr. Noyouko said—her gaze had immediately found Tora’s amber stare from across the room. Her stomach somersaulted up toward her throat, watching as he practically prowled toward her, stopping a couple steps from where she stood and extending a hand, his gaze steady, hungry, the faintest smirk teasing around a corner of his lips. Was he also thinking about last night? He wore a black turtleneck that covered even his neck tattoo but did little to hide his muscular build—the dark green pants that hugged his thighs paired with black combat boots _did_ things to the warm spot between her legs. His hair was pulled back under his black hat and Poppy desperately tried not to think of the last time he’d worn it, what they’d done in and after the rain, could feel her blush creeping down her torso beneath her shirt. “Oh, this is my bodyguard, Tora,” Mr. Noyouko said around a knowing smile as he watched Poppy place her hand in Tora’s.

“Pleasure,” Tora murmured, his grip around her fingers warm and firm. His thumb rubbed against the back of her knuckles once, twice and then he was backing up to stand just behind the place where Mr. Noyouko lounged.

“Oh, are we pretending this isn’t a thing?” Erdene asked from behind her, and when Poppy whipped around to glare at her with a silent plea in her eyes to please shut the hell up, her friend was wagging a finger between Tora and Poppy with one brow raised, a smirk plain as day across her face.

“You know,” Mr. Noyouko chimed in, smirking at Erdene, “we walked in just as you were saying something about how _of coooourse_ you wanted—”

“Quince.” Poppy glanced at Tora whose face was nearly an unreadable mask, but she could see the danger in the fiery glare he leveled at the blonde man. _The blonde man…_ Poppy turned to look back at Mr. Noyouko. She hadn’t realized it when he’d first walked in because she’d been so mortified and in shock at his sudden appearance, but she was certain he was the person she’d seen Tora manhandle down the street last week. But if Tora was his bodyguard…she tilted her head, wondering about the nature of their relationship. They really did seem more like brothers than colleagues. And Tora had managed to silence Mr. Noyouko with a look.

Mr. Noyouko rolled his eyes, huffing a sigh and pushing off the desk as he approached Poppy. He extended a hand toward her, much like Tora had, except when she grabbed his fingers, his hand went limp in her grasp. “Call me Quincey, dear,” he said before turning to shake—or hold—the hands of her colleagues.  
  
“I’m Poppy,” she said quickly, “I’m an editor with Giant Goldfish, as is Jacob,” she said gesturing toward Jacob who raised a hand and quickly looked away from Tora who was sizing him up with a frown from beside Quincey. “And Erdene is our graphic designer—she’d be helping us with designing the look of the book, but,” Poppy waved the hand with the folders, “I think I’m getting ahead of myself. I’ve got the conference room set up so we can go over the proposal if that works for you,” she addressed Quincey who looked her up and down, his eyes lingering at her collar before he smiled.

“That sounds wonderful, honey,” he said, gesturing for Tora to follow as Poppy and Erdene led them into the conference room. The meeting only took about ten minutes—Quincey seemed incredibly open to all of Poppy’s ideas and barely even glanced at the stipulations Mr. Lam had so meticulously outlined. Poppy had noticed that Tora’d been staring at her through the meeting—every couple minutes she’d catch his eye. As Erdene was showing Quincey some examples of her work on a tablet, Poppy’d met Tora’s eye again from across the table, and she’d blushed as he brought two fingers to his lips, stroking a subtle smirk as he held her gaze. She’d swallowed quickly, trying to take deep breaths as she turned her attention back to the meeting, but found she couldn’t stop thinking about the look he’d given her two nights ago as he’d gently sucked the skin of her inner thigh between his teeth. She found herself rubbing her own lips in an attempt to calm down, but it really wasn’t helping the way it always had before this man had entered her life.

“Honestly, I’d love to work with you, honey,” Quincey said, whirling toward Poppy in his chair. “The project sounds amazing, and I think ghostwriting will give me a chance to really experiment with my writing in a way I haven’t been able to in a while,” he said, smiling as he glanced at Tora. “So, where do I sign?”

Poppy quickly jumped up from her chair—he wanted to sign! “Oh my gosh, Mr. Noyou— _Quincey_ ,” she corrected herself at the look on his face. “You will not regret this,” she said as she opened the folder with the contract, sliding it across the table with a pen as Erdene refilled his coffee cup from the box of joe at the side table. Poppy glanced at Tora and couldn’t contain the grin across her face as she saw the look in his eyes— _was that pride?_ She almost missed the sudden gulping sound from Quincey as he took a large swallow of steaming coffee, Erdene lightly patting him on the back before running to the side table to grab napkins. Quincey blinked up at Poppy, she couldn’t read the look on his face as he said slowly, “Poppy dear, I’m so sorry, I must not have caught it before—what did you say your name was?”

She smiled. As a fellow writer, maybe he’d heard of her dad. “Wilkes. Poppylan Wilkes.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Had a majorly tough time getting back into Poppy’s head, but it had to be done. I have a feeling many chapters going forward will be from Tora’s perspective save for a couple key ones I’ve got in mind for Pops. 
> 
> Also…phone sex is so hard to write. Why is it so hard to write??
> 
> Thank you thank you thank you for reading this story and for your sweet comments—they keep me going!
> 
> Ch. 18: A bunch of characters meet each other and some threads get connected *winks*


	18. Just another Sunday

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tora wishes he could stay with his hamster, but needs to take care of some business.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fair warning: this is *absolutely* not the update I said it was gonna be, but hopefully the length makes up for it????
> 
> I truly had not intended to write this from Tora’s perspective, I swear. But then, before I knew it, I was 4,000 words into retelling chapter 17 listening to All Time Low’s “Monsters” on repeat and, what can I say, I couldn’t stop. Already working on the next chapter, though, so I’m gonna try to get that up as soon as possible.
> 
> Oh, and some NSFW (obviously haha) but better cause it’s Tora’s pov (imho)
> 
> As always, characters belong to the real MVP Lilydusk, brilliant creator of Midnight Poppy Land. Support her on Patreon! https://www.patreon.com/lilydusk

**Chapter 18**

Tora blinked frantically at the sudden darkness, where the fuck was he? He glanced around—an archway, his bare feet on a wood floor, a window to the night sky, the trees like distant shadows. Not his apartment, and sure as shit not the concrete box, no bars against the stars. A couch in the room ahead, he knew that couch. His fingers pressing something soft, a blanket? He turned.

“Tora.” That voice, soft—barely a whisper. He turned further, taking in the bed just behind him, _hers_.

“Poppylan?” Her hand outstretched, fingers illuminated by the watery light of the stars, the sliver of moon, her face pale, worried. Why was she worried? He glanced down again, sinking slowly back onto the mattress, lowering the fist, he realized with a jolt, that was clutched beneath his chin, palms falling, digging into the blanket on either side of hips. _What if ya’d hit her?_ He swallowed at the thought, mouth running dry. _Shit_ , he’d thought tonight’d be different, but who the fuck was he kidding. The whir of the fridge like a haze in the room, Tora let his chin collapse against his chest.

_Shit, get it together. Get ya fuckin’ shit together, ya gonna scare her_. “Sorry, sweetheart. Didn’t mean to wake ya.” He could feel his body trembling. _The body, shit_. The body in the box, crumpled, the man curled in on himself the way Tora’d sometimes seen bees crumple along the edges of the city streets. Their small bodies like crescents tucked between cigarette butts, leaves, old lottery tickets. Falling, their wings finally giving out, legs clawing the pavement, desperate for safety as the city descended into the colder months of the year. _The body_. Tora drew a shallow breath, his chest tight. _Just fuckin’ breathe._ He forced an inhale like a knife to the ribs, could feel the tremor in his arms down to his fingers as he squeezed the mattress. _Ya killed him._ Vincent’s face, he could still see it, vivid when he closed his eyes—Vincent’s face through the bars of the cage. _Shit, goddamn it. Calm the fuck down_.

Suddenly, Tora felt the mattress dipping around his hips. Poppy moving closer, he made to turn, but her bare legs were sliding against his thighs, her palms on his back. As she peeled the fabric away from his skin, he could feel a rush of cold air—shit, he’d definitely sweat through the fuckin’ shirt. What the fuck was she gonna think? He bit back a groan as the haze started to clear at her touch. _Ya slept over her place. Had a nightmare, just a nightmare. Not real. Bobby’s here. It’s okay, Bobby’s here, safe. Ya both okay. Safe._ He let out an exhale through his teeth, barely hearing her ask quietly, as though worried she might scare him away, “is it okay if I take this off? You’ll catch cold.” Tora swallowed again just as the fridge clicked off—it was like a weight lifted from his shoulders at the sudden silence of the room. He took a couple deep breaths, easier now, Poppy’s head resting against his back like a buoy with each of his movements, some kind of anchor in a storm. Tethering him to the earth.

He nodded, unable to speak. His throat had tightened suddenly at her warmth, he didn’t fuckin’ deserve this wonderful woman. And she sure as shit didn’t deserve any of this, he thought bringing his palms to rub her knees—so soft. How was she so soft? As she lifted the shirt, he raised his arms, allowing the thin fabric, heavy with sweat, to peel away from his body—the nightmare like a second skin she helped to remove. Tender in her fingers as he felt her hands return to his back, his palms holding the sides of her thighs. Her hands were firm on his muscles as she stroked his shoulders, he could feel the tension seeping away from his body— _how was she doin’ that?_ Years of these nightmares and he’d never learned how to relax after waking—had always desperately needed the repeated hits of nicotine to his system in order to be able to fuckin’ breathe. But Poppy’s steady hands on his back, her breath, so warm on the skin that’d chilled after she’d removed his shirt, he felt his throat release, able to inhale deeper. He felt her pull away for a moment before she was wiggling her hips more firmly against his—a second later, he felt her like magma against his back—her torso pressed bare to his skin as she circled her arms around to hold his abdomen. He could feel his mouth fall open around an exhale as he felt her chest so soft against his damp skin. _Holy—_ Tora made to turn, what was she doin’? Fuck if he was gonna make her feel like she had to soothe him with her body—of course he wanted to feel her eventually, but not cause of his fuckin’ issues. “Bobby?” But her fingers on his chin kept him from being able to rotate fully.

He felt her shake her head softly against his back, “mm-mmm.” And then her hand was back around his torso. Tora let his eyes close as he felt her hands begin to stroke his chest, rubbing firm, wide circles that spanned from the center of his ribs out to his shoulders. He could feel her breathing deeply against his back, and he focused on trying to match the length of his inhales to hers. As she held him, he could feel his spine finally seem to unlock, his back melting into her embrace. _Sweet fuck, this woman_. He felt himself smile softly as he pictured her face, the way she sometimes beamed up at him like she was the fuckin’ sun. His Bobby. Shit. How’d she known exactly how to calm him down? How’d she known exactly what his body’d needed in order to return to her in this moment, her bedroom, the quiet darkness of her apartment?

“Bobby,” he tried to keep his voice as soft as possible, terrified of disturbing the fragile bubble of peace she’d managed to craft around them.

“Mmm,” he felt her hum against his back, the vibrations another kind of salve on his frayed nerves.

He smiled softly as her hands dipped along the edges of his armpits, “no complaints here,” he started, feeling the swell of her tits moving against his back as he spoke, “but what’re ya doin’?”

She turned her head, rolling her cheek toward the center of his back before he felt her lips press to the skin along his spine, as though she didn’t want to lift her head away from him, “skin-to-skin contact. Helps to activate the parasympathetic nervous system.”

He frowned slightly, opening his eyes to look out the window where he peered at the stars that peppered the deep blue-black expanse above the trees across the street. _The para-what?_ He waited for her to go on, but when she didn’t, he probed softly, “which is…?”

“It’s the opposite of the body’s fight-or-flight mechanism.” _Ah,_ well he sure as shit had experience with that, his body groomed to react, to take enemies head-on. “Helps calm you down,” she explained. “Massages help, too,” Tora closed his eyes again, allowing himself to relax into her touch, pushing thoughts of the clan from his mind. There was no one else here, just Bobby, fuck if he was gonna let his past into this moment.

He felt her reach up, arm tucked firmly under his as she lifted a hand to his lips, softly brushing her fingers across his mouth as he smiled, “and so does touching your lips.” His heart nearly broke at the tenderness in her voice, fuck, even with his back to her, he felt bared. Like she could see both through and inside him all at once, everything he needed, wanted. The person he could be. _Shit_. He swallowed, lightly taking the fingers she held to his face, pressing his lips to her palm once before lacing his fingers with hers, moving to hold her hand to his heart. He wondered for a moment whether she’d be able to tell from the pulse beneath his ribs exactly how he felt. He sighed lightly, that was fuckin’ ridiculous. _Ya bein’ a goddamn sentimental sucker._ A car passed by outside and Tora focused on the sound of their breathing, not wanting a single thing from beyond the walls of her bedroom to intrude on their bubble. He felt her reach up, swiping her hand firmly across his forehead a couple times, _the hell she doin’?_ He laughed softly, enjoying the way her bare chest moved against his back, “and what’s that do, Bobby?”

She kissed him again, her face still hadn’t broken contact with his back as she tilted her head to rest a cheek along his spine. “Oh, this is just to wipe away the bad dreams,” she said as she drew her hand back down to his chest, resuming the open-palmed circles. Course she had a fix for that, too. He laughed, “I see.” Fuck, how long had they been sitting like this instead of sleeping? He glanced out the window—it was clearly real fuckin’ late, and they’d stayed up well past the time she probably normally went to bed. A part of him wanted to tell her he was fine now, thank her for the massage, the para-simping shit, but couldn’t bring himself to speak the words. Shit, he just wanted to go back to a couple hours ago, why couldn’t they go back? His arms around her, Bobby drawn up against him, her head tucked to his arm, one of her thighs pressed between his. His fuckin’ hamster. And the idea of being able to feel her against his chest without any clothes between them, _sweet fuck_. Was there anything he’d ever wanted more? “Bobby.” 

She hummed against his back in question. He hesitated, desperate to have her back in his arms, to be able to give her the same comfort, the same tender care she’d given him. She was fuckin’ precious, he needed to show her that, to cradle her to him, no barriers. “Can I hold ya?”

Poppy was quiet, the sound of her breath suddenly shallow, a bit faster against the dip of his spine. He closed his eyes, maybe she wasn’t ready for that, he didn’t want her to feel like he was pushing. He could wait. There was time, shit, he really hoped they had more time. He opened his mouth, ready to tell her he actually needed to get water, a smoke, take a piss, anything not to hear her rejection— and then she nodded. Barely perceptible, but Tora was sure he’d felt her head moving up and down against his skin. He waited, holding his breath until he heard her voice, soft around the word he’d desperately hoped for.

Bringing her hand back to his mouth, he kissed her palm once more before transferring his weight to his feet, slipping against the covers as he heard her moving on the bed behind him. When he turned to face her, she was opening the covers toward him, her body, her bare torso illuminated faintly by the watery light of the window. He felt his breath leave his chest in a silent huff as he took in the sight of her—what little he could see. Fuck, she’d always been gorgeous, but propped gently against her pillows, hair spilling around her shoulders, her eyes wide in the darkness as she opened her bed to him—she’d never been more breathtaking. He had to remind himself to inhale as he crawled toward her, his eyes briefly lingering on her chest, the gentle curves sloping toward the swell of her stomach. He had half a mind to slide down the bed and cradle her torso to his face—they’d get there, though, he told himself. _I can be incredibly patient_. He’d meant it, he thought, as he slid under the covers, reaching out his arms toward her until she was close enough to draw her the rest of the way against his chest. “Come here, sweetheart.”

He felt her press her hand against his chest beside the mattress, her other arm settling over his side, fingers gripping his back as he wrapped his arms tightly around her, dropping a kiss to her hair. She melted against him and Tora closed his eyes, focusing on the way her bare skin felt against his, the way he could feel every one of her inhales pressing against his chest. A goddamn angel in his arms. How had he gotten here? Was this real? She nudged a thigh against his legs, and he smiled at the idea that she wanted to be held as much as he wanted to hold her. He lifted his top leg for her, felt her tuck a foot around his calf. Not for the first time since meeting her, Tora found himself thinking that if he could stay in this moment for the rest of his life, he would. No hesitation.

She spoke softly against his chest, “do you want to talk about it?” He squeezed his eyes tighter, his brow tensing before he felt her place a kiss to his skin. How did she read him like that, he wondered again as he relaxed.

“M’okay, sweetheart.” Not technically a lie. In her arms, he was more than okay. “Just some bad memories.”

He felt her nod against his chest, “if you change your mind…” Tora sighed softly, _fuck_. He swallowed against the sting behind his lids, feeling the soft press of her lips to his throat. A real-life goddamn angel.

*

Tora slowly blinked the sleep from his eyes, groaning on an exhale and swallowing at the bright light of morning as a wave of relief washed over him—the night was over and, somehow, he’d managed to sleep through the handful of hours from when Bobby had calmed him through to the dawn. _Bobby_. His gaze focused on the woman in his arms—her eyes were bright as she smiled up at him. How long had she been awake? Had she been watching him sleep? He’d have to tease her about that later…for now, though—he yawned, squeezing her tight against his body—fuck, she felt so good pressed against him. His arm bracing her bare back, his hand cupping her ass, _sweet fuck_ —when had his hand slipped from her back? He moved it back up to the dip just above her ass, unable to stray too far. Like he was helplessly drawn to her, he fuckin’ loved the feel of her in his palms. “Sorry,” he murmured, silently mourning the loss.

“It’s okay, felt nice,” she said softly into his chest. _Oh?_ He smirked at her as she rolled her eyes, continuing, “because you’re warm.” She nodded down toward the end of the bed, “you insisted on kicking off the covers again, so…” he laughed, but at her movement, he was suddenly very aware of his cock pressing into her hip. Hard. _Shit_ , he angled his hips back—didn’t want her to think he was tryin’ to pressure her or anything. It’s just what fuckin’ happened in the morning and, honestly, he thought, looking down at Poppy, having a half-naked, beautiful woman pressed up against him definitely wasn’t _not_ affecting him.

“Sure, Bobby,” he laughed, “whatever ya say.” Fuck, even first thing in the morning she was fuckin’ feisty.

After a moment, she spoke again. “Hey, Tora?”

“Mmm?”

He’d let his eyes drift shut again as he held her, but the hesitation in her voice made him blink open again, finding her worried eyes, “I’ve never, um…” he watched as she took a deep breath. _Shit_ , he swallowed, what was she about to say? Couldn’t be anything good—maybe he’d overstayed his welcome. She wouldn’t meet his eyes, stared at his throat as she continued, “would you mind if I…if I put my shirt on?”

_Her shirt?_ His eyes scanned her face—she was definitely serious. Maybe she didn’t know he’d been able to see her in the dim light of the room a couple hours ago. Either way, clearly, she wasn’t comfortable. “Course, Bobby. Here,” he pulled his arm up from around her back, drawing his palm to his face as he rolled onto his back away from her, feeling a rush of cool air in the places where he’d pulled away from the heat of her body. He listened with his eyes closed as she patted around at the end of the bed, her hands skimming his legs over the covers a couple of times as she huffed softly. She was silent for a moment—had she found it?

“Ya good, Bobby?” Without being pressed against her, he’d realized how much he needed to piss, told her as much and laughed when she huffed his name. She was quiet for a second—he’d only been half-joking, though. He did really have to go. “No but, really, sweetheart. I’m fuckin’ burstin’,” he said, smirking from around his palm, “ya were on my bladder all night.”

He felt her smack his thigh playfully as she climbed over him, and his breath caught in his throat at how close her hand, her body, had been to his cock, still so fuckin’ hard. “You loved it.” Well, shit. She wasn’t wrong. Tora smiled, then frowned as he heard her padding away from the bed. Had she found the fuckin’ shirt? “Oi, Bobby!”

“Yeah, yeah,” she sighed, “I’m decent.” Tora sat up quickly, throwing the covers from around his legs, nearly tripping on his way out of bed when he saw her. Wearing his shirt. Sweet fuck, he hadn’t thought she could get any sexier, and yet…He ran up behind her, scooping her into his arms as he swung her around once, resisting the urge to laugh as he heard her squeak in surprise, instead pressing his lips to her cheek quickly before he ran past her toward the bathroom.

“Tora!” she breathed in surprise, but now with the bathroom in sight, the need to relieve himself was too strong. He winced when the door accidentally slammed behind him as he roughly shucked his briefs down around his cock, “my bad, Bobby!” he called through the door as he flipped the toilet seat up with his other hand, bending over slightly to aim carefully. He sighed as the pressure left his body, tilting his head slightly as he thought of Bobby in his shirt. Fuck, what he wouldn’t give to spend all day here, dedicate his every hour to worshipping her body. Discovering what made her breath hitch in her throat, what gave her goosebumps, what might make her moan his name. He washed his hands quickly and strode back out to the kitchen. Silently leaning against the arch, he admired her from behind as she filled a kettle with water. His eyes dragged from her sleep-tousled hair down her back, his shirt hanging off her curvy frame and falling just past her ass. He wished he could thank his past self for packing such a thin shirt—with every subtle move of her body, the fabric clung to her panties.

But beyond all that—his clear desire for her—his chest swelled at the idea of her so casually wearing his clothes. Making tea—how mundane it was, how…normal. Fuck, he desperately wanted just to be fuckin’ normal with her. He smiled softly, trying to stop himself from imagining what it might be like for this to be just another Sunday morning for them. Would she wear his shirts all the time? He thought he’d like that. Poppy turned then, nearly dropping the kettle. Shit, he probably should’ve announced himself. Quince’d gotten on his case more than enough times about being too quiet. _Creepy_ , he called it. Fuck.

“I like it better on ya,” he nodded toward the shirt. It was true—not only did it look nicer on her, but Tora especially liked the way it made him feel to see her in it. Like she was claiming him, in a way. A subtle way that only he’d ever know about, but still.

He watched as she blushed, let his eyes drop to her chest momentarily—shit, and he’d thought she looked tempting from behind. The fabric clung to her tits, her nipples stiff in the cool air of the kitchen. Or maybe it was his gaze that did that to her— _sweet fuck_ , he really liked the thought of _that_. He felt himself push off of the archway, unable to stop himself as she watched him approach, half a question falling from her lips before he brought his hand to cup her face, thumb skimming lightly over the slightly bruised marks he’d left along her neck, fingers tangling in the soft hair around her ear. He held her gaze, her brown eyes wide, lips parted around her unfinished question as he leaned closer, stepping forward, taking the kettle gently from her fingers and placing it on the counter. He pulled her close to him, her body flush to his, hand cupping her waist, fingers wrapping toward the small of her back as he bent down to press his lips to hers. He moved his mouth slow against her, wanting to savor this moment for just a little longer, here with Bobby in her kitchen, hidden away from everyone, breathing deeply through his nose as he felt her sink against him, her body warm through the thin fabric of his shirt, supple against his bare torso. Shit, he’d stay here all day if he could, but he needed to check in with his men, figure out what to do with the security guard. And he couldn’t put off the inevitable, couldn’t risk being off the grid for too long, not with the way Vincent was watching him. He’d need to check on Quincey, maybe take another pass at Goliath’s shit. There had to be something he was missing. The movement of Poppy’s arm moving up his body pulled Tora from his thoughts, her fingers tracing up his face until she was cupping his jaw, bringing him back to her. As he slowly pulled away, resting his forehead against hers, he again found himself wondering how she managed to do that every damn time.

“I’ve gotta get goin’, sweetheart,” the words nearly catching in his chest as she nodded against him. Her fingers came to rest over his heart as she looked up at him, “you need your shirt back?”

She looked so fuckin’ adorable, afraid he’d ask for it back. “Nah, Bobby,” he smirked. “Meant what I said.” He couldn’t help it—when she smiled at his words, he quickly dipped his head, kissing her once more before turning to walk back toward his go-bag. Where the hell had he put his phone? Shit, he quickly sifted through the bag before spotting it across the room. He heard Poppy call to him—something about a shower, he’d save that for later once he’d worked out. Tora quickly pulled on his jeans from the day before and a clean shirt from the bag, one hand absently patting the mesh pocket that held his weapon before he zipped the bag closed again. He grabbed his phone, quickly thumbing in the passcode and scrolling through the messages he had. Fuck—it hadn’t even been that long. One from Martin—an update: no collections today, thank fuck. A few from Quince, he’d check those later—if it was important, the man would’ve called him by now…Tora clicked his teeth in annoyance at seeing Ronzo’s name—the fucker’d finally gotten back to him early that morning. Tora tried to excuse the length of time between his first text and Gyu’s late-ass reply, thinking back to what Damien and Bryan had said, but fuck, he’d really need to have a word with him.

@Ronzo: just off work, Big Bro. sorry.

@Ronzo: Damien sent me an address, something about building security? let me know.

Tora rolled his eyes. Would’ve been ideal to have Gyu already set up, but this’d have to do. Tora walked back to the kitchen slowly as he responded.

@Tora: yea, got a job for ya. same address, head over now

Tora glanced up at Poppy as he heard the pour of water and couldn’t help but smirk again at the look of her in his fuckin’ shirt. He walked to stand behind her, touching a hand to her waist as he pressed his lips to the place where her hairline curved toward her ear before turning out to lean against the counter, watching as she picked up the steaming mug with both hands, blowing gently, eyes on him. The cup had a drawing of an elephant on it and he nearly laughed when he read the words: _your argument is irrelephant_. Even her fuckin’ dishes were feisty. He really wanted to pinch her cheek but fought the urge to lean back toward her, not wanting to accidentally make her spill the boiling liquid on herself. He quickly took his hair down as she watched him retie it, the plastic strawberry hitting his knuckles gently as he twisted it around the bun. Shit, he really didn’t wanna leave. Tora folded his arms across his chest, his body doing everything in its power to prevent the next words from settling into the space between them as he finally said, “got an assignment that’s gonna take longer than I’d hoped.” He bit the inside of his mouth, not technically a lie—with all the shit he needed to get done, there was no way he’d be able to stop by again. Shit, why’d it always feel like a fuckin’ shot to the gut when he had to leave her?

He watched as her eyes fell away from his, her head nodding lightly before looking back up at him hesitantly, “so…I’ll see you Monday?”

How was she so goddamn perfect, he wondered, smiling as he nodded. Though he’d rather see her alone than surrounded by other people, he’d take what he could get. “Time should I bring Quince ‘round?”

“Ten?” she tilted her head to the side, shit, she was too fuckin’ cute standing there in his shirt, drinkin’ from that cheeky mug, her tiny fuckin’ bare feet rubbing against each other on the floor.

“Sounds good, Bobby,” Tora reached over and pinched her cheek, unable to stop himself any longer, “cute fuckin’ hamster with ya mug. Fuck.”

He laughed as she rolled her face away from his fingers, “you know you shouldn’t pinch people.”

“Can’t help it, Bob. Ya fuckin’ adorable.” And he meant it, hadn’t even left yet and he was already missing her. She rolled her eyes as he turned to grab his bag from the other room, surprised to see she’d followed him from the kitchen. Holy shit, was she gonna send him off half-naked? He could get used that, he thought with a smirk as he toed on his shoes, slinging the go-bag over his shoulder. He glanced up to tell her as much, hoping to get a rise out of her when his eyes fell on the balcony door—he pointed with his phone in his hand, “make sure ya lock that at night.” Her eyebrows pulled together, but Tora didn’t care—if he wasn’t gonna be here to keep her safe, he had to, at the very least, remind her to do the things he would’ve checked if he were here. “And lock this behind me,” he said, standing back up and pulling open the front door before quickly leaning down to kiss her goodbye—didn’t want the neighbors to catch an eyeful of his girl barely dressed. She’d been worried about _him_ seeing her—probably didn’t want strangers to. He quickly turned, heading down the steps so that she’d close the door, a couple moments later he heard the click of the lock.

His phone buzzed between his fingers of the palm that was cupped around his cigarette, his other hand thumbing the lighter as he descended the final flight of stairs into the parking lot. He paused at the base, taking a drag as he unlocked the thing. Fuckin’ Ronzo, ‘bout damn time.

@Ronzo: sure, Big Bro. when you say job, you mean like a one-time gig right?

@Ronzo: otherwise I gotta take time off

Tora quickly typed back, thumbs hitting the screen harder than necessary, cigarette dangling from his lips, watching from the corner of his eye as the security guard poke his head out of the booth, looking Tora up and down before stepping into the lot. “Hey, how’d you get in here?”

Tora glanced up from his phone, one hand coming up to hold the cigarette in his mouth as he took another drag. The security guard took a step closer to Tora before seeming to think better of approaching the brooding thug-looking man at the base of the stairs. Tora repressed the urge to laugh, this fucker was scared of him, and the man’s job was to secure the fuckin’ building. He rolled his eyes taking a couple steps toward the guard until he could see the name patch on his uniform. “Trevor, is it,” he said, inhaling deeply before blowing smoke toward the man who coughed a couple times. “Well, look. I’m gonna level with ya, Trevor.” Tora eyed the man who’d begun trembling as he’d quickly closed the distance between them. Movement on the street caught his eye. _Shit, those fuckers_. He could see Damien and Bryan grinning like fools from the open window of their car across the street. He’d hoped to have made it out of the parking lot unnoticed so it wasn’t so plainly fuckin’ obvious he’d spent the night in the building. He turned his gaze back to Trevor, taking another drag off his cigarette. “Been watchin’ ya, and I gotta say, ya shit at ya job. And I need to know this building’s got good security.”

He watched as Trevor’s eyes widened, the man’s thin lips parting as he stammered, “you’re not allowed to smoke here, you know.”

Tora tried not to laugh, he really did, but couldn’t contain the bark that left his throat. Shit, least the guy had a sense of humor. Tora let his face fall flat as he pulled up Ronzo’s number on his phone and hit dial. He dragged his eyes back to the security guard, bringing the smoldering end of the cigarette to his tongue where it sizzled. It hurt, but Tora didn’t allow himself to flinch as he held the man’s gaze, slowly bringing his hand back down and flicking the butt away from him into the lot as Ronzo picked up.   
  
“Yo, Big Bro. About this job—”

“Yeah, permanent position just opened up—private security,” Tora said, his eyes flicking back and forth between the guard’s, who visibly swallowed. He listened as Ronzo said some shit about not knowing what Tora was going on about, but Tora’s attention was on the man in front of him who seemed to be waiting with bated breath for his next words, “yeah, my friend Trevor here decided to take an early retirement—spend time with his loved ones and all.” Tora glanced down at the man’s hand—a wedding band, perfect. “Be a shame if his old lady found out ‘bout that other chick.” He watched Trevor’s eyes nearly bug out of his head before the man suddenly turned, walking across the lot back toward the booth where he quickly threw down a set of keys before heading in the opposite direction to climb into a shitty beater. The gate slid open on a loud creak slowly, and as soon as the space was wide enough to fit through, the man gunned it out the lot and down the street. _Good fuckin’ riddance_.

“Big Bro, I’m so confused.”

Tora sighed, transferring his phone to his other hand so he could point with his middle finger at Damien and Bryan who were laughing across the street, flipping them off with a glare and taking a simple satisfaction at the way they immediately sobered. He threw his bag into the trunk, slamming it closed, “ya got a new gig, Ronzo. Quit ya other job—”

“Jobs,” Gyu corrected him. “Plural, Big Bro—is this a for-sure thing? You mean it?”

Tora rolled his eyes, reaching for the cigarettes in his pocket before skimming his hand along the dent in the roof of his car. He sighed, climbing into the driver’s seat, leaving the smokes in his jeans, “go to the address Damien sent ya—he’ll get ya set up and shit. Need ya to upgrade the security of the building, so bring ya Skynet shit.”

He heard Ronzo sigh on the other end, but hung up before he could hear whatever the man had been about to say. As he pulled out of the lot, he stopped so that his window lined up with Damien’s. “Ronzo’s on his way. Once he gets here, fill him in and get him set up in the booth. Code’s 1-2-3-4,” he added, rolling his eyes. They both nodded quickly. “Set it up with landlord—I don’t care how, but no violence. Ya don’t have to stick around after that—check up on him, though. And add this area to ya patrols,” he nodded toward the building and waited until they nodded again before he sped off, narrowly avoiding a pole he hadn’t seen as he’d glanced back up at Poppy’s balcony on the off-chance that he might see her in his shirt one last time.

*

“What the fuck, Quince, it’s not for you,” Tora wrestled the takeout bag away from the blonde man who had pounced on him as soon as he’d entered the penthouse kitchen. “I asked ya if ya wanted anything and what the hell did ya say?” Tora glared at him as he held the plastic bag out of reach.

“Honey, that was _hours ago_ ,” Quincey moaned, “you know how famished I get writing roman—"

“Porn,” Tora corrected, pulling out the boxes of sushi as he shouldered Quincey out of the way. “And ya didn’t answer my question.” He glared at Quincey as he pulled apart the wooden chopsticks—fuck, he’d really pushed it too hard that morning at the gym, even his fuckin’ fingers were sore.

Quincey huffed, rolling his eyes and moving to grab a bottle of water out of the fridge, “ _sex scenes are my sustenance_ ,” he sighed as he repeated his own words back to the brooding, hangry man staring darkly at him from across the kitchen. “I know, I know,” he waved Tora off who, having just stuffed a piece of sashimi in his mouth, held his hands wide as if to say, _so how is this my fault_.

He watched as Quincey made his way back out to the living room, holding the bottle to his temple, “honey, you got here just in time—I really don’t know where to take it from here. My two leads have just spent the night together, tense from the threat of an asteroid that came this close to hitting their base,” he whirled around to face Tora, who was watching him warily from over the takeout in the kitchen. He held his thumb and index finger together as Tora rolled his eyes, “and they’re about to make love for the first time, you know, the blood’s pumping, it’s their moment,” he explained. “But I’m trying to write it from _her_ perspective and I just…” he huffed, “it’s like I’ve hit a wall.” He stared at Tora with wide eyes, pulling out his phone and tapping a couple times before saying, “listen to this: _your heart is the most unreliable resource in your body right now_.” He looked up at Tora with a wild look in his eyes, “and this!” Tora watched as Quincey tapped his phone again, “ _keep all relevant layers of meaning intact as you weave together clues from past observations_.” He looked back up at Tora with wide eyes and shook his head. “What am I supposed to do? If I can’t trust my heart to lead me in the right direction, then how in the world am I supposed to bring these lovers together in a believable and satisfying way?”

“Quince, what in the _fuck_ are ya talkin’ ‘bout,” Tora said around a piece of fish, scowling across the island into the living room.

“The _stars_ , Tora,” he huffed, as though it were obvious, “how am I supposed to be able to keep writing this if it’s not in the cards for me? I’m on a deadline!”

Tora rolled his eyes, “well, first of all,” he chewed and swallowed, “that’s a load of bullshit. Ya know as well as I do that ya make ya own deadlines.” Quincey glanced up at the ceiling, shifting his head from shoulder to shoulder as he thought that over. “And second,” Tora continued, realizing he’d been reading the astrology shit he was obsessed with, “ya don’t need any of that star shit, just write what ya feel, Quince.”

Quincey blinked at him. “Tora,” he clapped his hands together in a sign of exaggerated patience. Tora sighed, tucking another piece of fish onto his tongue as he waited for an overthought lecture that would inevitably end in a breakthrough of some kind—hell, maybe he’d even get away with not havin’ to stay the whole goddamned night. Quincey had texted him that morning, insisting that he stay over to beta-read in exchange for meeting Poppy tomorrow. Tora’d wanted to punch him but forced himself to calm down as he thought of who he was doing this for, instead taking it out in his workout. She’d said her job was on the line, and Tora sure as shit wasn’t just gonna stand by and let that Lamb guy tank her career if he could help it. And he _could_ help it, which made him feel good—it wasn’t often he got to help instead of hurt people. He chewed as Quincey continued, “how am I supposed to write what I feel, if my heart is the most unreliable resource in my body?” He sank onto the couch, throwing his arm back over his head as he slumped into the cushions. When Tora didn’t answer, Quincey peeked over at him, watching as his brother picked up another piece of fish. He huffed, “You know, I’m going to need you to be a touch more helpful if I’m going to meet with your _friend_ tomorrow.”

The chopsticks paused on the way to Tora’s open mouth as he leveled a stare at Quincey. _This fucker_ …Slowly, he put the sashimi on his tongue, gripping the utensils carefully as he laid them in the tray and walking over to where Quincey sat on the couch.

“Wait, Tora—no hitting, you’ll leave a mark, you always leave a mark,” Quincey whined as Tora approached. Finally, Tora stood over him, keeping his face in a neutral expression, his lips slightly down-turned—determined not to give away how livid he was. He’d never asked Quincey for anything, not one fucking time in their goddamned lives and this fucker couldn’t do him this one favor?

Tora stretched out a hand toward him, “give me ya fuckin’ phone.” Quincey’s eyes widened, but he did as he was told, drawing his hands into his lap as he sat up straighter on the couch, peering at his brother anxiously. Tora swiped around until he found Quincey’s star app—had a picture of a moon on it, Tora’d had it waved in his face enough times to be familiar with the fuckin’ thing. He tapped it and scrolled through the notifications Quincey had gotten until he reached that day’s. “Quince,” he said, voice strained as he pinched the bridge of his nose with his other hand, “did ya read what it says for today?”

Quincey huffed, rolling his eyes quickly. “Tora, honestly, I thought it applied more to _you_ than to me, so it’s irrele—”

“ _You need to remember_ ,” Tora read, glancing up at Quincey with a dark look, “ _you are not damaged goods_.” He raised his gaze to glare at the blonde man who was avoiding his stare. “For fuck’s sake, Quince. If ya take this shit seriously, then ya can’t fuckin’ pick and choose whatever the fuck ya feel like.” He threw the phone back down on the couch beside Quincey before stalking to the kitchen to grab his sushi.

“I thought you were going to help,” Quincey called after him. 

“I fuckin’ am, just grabbin’ my goddamned food. Start fuckin’ readin’.” Tora swiped up the takeout and made his way back to the couch, pulling out his phone on the way as Quincey hopped up to collect a pile from the corner of the room that was presumably the fuckin’ asteroid-sex chapter. As Quincey began reading, Tora let himself partially zone out, every once in a while making a comment or asking a dumb question so that Quince would think he was listening. But all he could think about was Bobby, the way she’d looked in his shirt that morning. Fuck, what he wouldn’t give to be back at her apartment right now, pick up where they’d left off last night. He smirked to himself.

“That’s a good line, right?” Quincey looked up at Tora with bright eyes as he took in his brother’s smirk before muttering to himself, “I knew it.” He made a mark on the paper in bright purple ink and continued reading aloud as Tora rolled his eyes. From what he’d heard, the sex sounded like it wouldn’t be enjoyable for the woman, even though _she_ was the one telling the story. He ran his tongue along the inside of his lower teeth, wondered what Bobby would like. He remembered the way she’d grabbed her own tit as he put his mouth over her panties, couldn’t wait to try that again with her, especially without the clothes. “Ya know, Quince,” Tora said suddenly, “think it’d be good for ya to read this with a woman—that way ya’ll know if this shit is actually what a chick would be into. Sounds like a guy wrote it,” he said.

Quincey huffed, “Tora, a guy _did_ write it. This guy,” he pointed at himself with the pen, rolling his eyes.

“Yeah, Quince, but if it’s supposed to be the girl talkin’ then it should sound like she’s talkin’, not like ya talkin’ _for_ her.”

Quincey’s mouth fell open and his eyes glazed over, staring at something just over Tora’s shoulder. Tora sighed, knowing it might be a while until the epiphany was over. He pulled out his phone, opening his messages with Poppy—he hadn’t heard from her since leaving her place that morning, would it be weird to text her? He didn’t want her to feel smothered or anything. As he was trying to decide how to ask her how her day was going, he remembered the photo of the poppies he’d snapped the other day—he’d meant to show it to her, she probably wouldn’t mind a text like that, he thought, quickly attaching the image and sending it off. While he waited to see if she’d reply, he pulled up the unread message he had from Damien—apparently Ronzo was all settled in the booth at her place. Good, he’d check in with the kid later. Maybe then he could finally find out how the hell he knew Bobby. Just then she texted him back:

@Bobby: Beautiful!

He suppressed his smile—didn’t want Quincey suspecting anything. The blonde man still hadn’t moved from staring into space, his lips were moving silently. Tora sighed as he stood—fuck, his back was killing him. He still hadn’t called the fuckin’ clan doctor. Maybe he should do that today…Tora stooped, grabbing his empty containers and bringing them to the kitchen as his phone buzzed again from the living room. _Shit_ , if Quince saw…he quickly dropped the shit on the counter and strode back out over to the couch, grabbing up his phone. _Ronzo?_ Tora’s stomach dropped at the thought that he might already have something to report about her building.

@Ronzo: hey Big Bro, you know anyone named Julri?

@Ronzo: short guy, stupid face, voice like he just got punched in the dick

_The fuck?_ Tora quickly responded, turning away from Quincey so the man wouldn’t see his frown. He could feel his jaw clicking—was this another Trevor? Damien’d said Ronzo was all set up. _Julri_ …Tora racked his brain, but he didn’t think he’d ever met or even heard of anyone by that name. Why the fuck was Ronzo askin’ that?

@Tora: no. why

@Ronzo: just some guy who showed up at the building

Tora’s heart leapt to his throat. Ronzo might be green, but not that fuckin’ green. There must’ve been a reason he’d get the guy’s name and then feel the need to text Tora about it. Shit, was this Ninedaggers? Sure, she lived in neutral territory, but it was only a matter of time before one of the clans encroached—what if someone had seen him comin’ and goin’? Fuck, he ran a hand through his hair, fingers hitting the strawberry tie as he clenched his jaw before typing back to Ronzo.

@Tora: what’d he want? was he clan

@Ronzo: no. he’s gone now

Tora heard Quincey come to behind him, the sound of papers shuffling together as he leapt up and ran down the hall, calling over his shoulder, “don’t go anywhere, honey. I’ve got an idea, but I need to run it by you!” Shit, he bit back a groan. He was gonna be here all fuckin’ night, which meant leaving Poppy alone with this Julri pokin’ around. Who the hell was he? If he wasn’t clan…maybe he’d just been lost or somethin’?

@Tora: i’ll swing by tomorrow, need to talk

@Ronzo: aye aye, Big Bro

@Ronzo: could you bring a nicer chair with you? this stool hurts my ass.

Tora rolled his eyes, fuck. Maybe he’d bring the kid a cushion.

*

Several hours later, just as Tora was putting down the game controller to lie down on the couch, Quincey popped out of his office—the man had taken to writing in there more and more as Tora had growled at him for leaving loose papers scattered all over the penthouse. The last straw had been when he’d accidentally crushed a purple pen under his shoe, staining the bright white leather immediately and permanently in only a way Quincey could’ve pulled off. Like fuckin’ unicorn cum.

Tora rolled his eyes as the blonde man shuffled across the room, clutching papers to his chest as he brushed Tora’s legs from the end. “Shit, Quince. Was ‘bout to sleep.”

“You can sleep when you’re dead,” he said flippantly. _Fuckin’ Quince_ , Tora was always amazed at how oblivious the man seemed to the reality of how close to death Tora usually was. “Need you to listen to this passage—it’s only a page, calm down,” he added as Tora huffed, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Ya got five minutes and then I’m goin’ to sleep.”

Quincey clicked his teeth, but quickly began reading. Tora listened, keeping his eyes trained on the ceiling above him. Still sounded like the guy was the center of attention—it was all about where he was stickin’ his dick. He thought of Poppy, how wet she’d been—both times, and neither had involved his fuckin’ cock, as much as he’d wanted them to. “Quince,” he interrupted, “ya know who could help with this?” he peered down the length of his body, meeting Quincey’s questioning eyes. “Poppy.”

Quincey snorted, “Tora. Please, you know how I feel about that whole,” he waved a hand, “situation.”

Tora rolled his eyes, “Quincey. I appreciate you tryin’ to look out for me, really, I do,” he fuckin’ didn’t, but Tora didn’t think he could listen to Quincey’s judgmental bullshit without deckin’ him, so he opted for lying. “But even if I told her tomorrow that she couldn’t meet ya, wouldn’t change anythin’.” He shrugged, “she’s not like that. And besides,” he said, “what I meant is that she reads a ton of this shit—got ya books all stacked up on her walls _and_ ,” he continued, waving a hand at Quincey, who had narrowed his eyes, “she’s a fuckin’ professional, like, literally gets paid to do this,” he motioned back and forth between them. “Unlike me,” he said with a huff, sitting up as his back spasmed. “She’s fuckin’ brilliant and feisty as shit, and ya’d have to be a fuckin’ dickwad not to see it.” Goddamn, he just wanted to be back in her apartment on the floor of her fuckin’ kitchen, eating pesticides and listenin’ to her laugh, lickin’ chocolate off her thigh…fuck. He needed to get away from Quince before he punched him in the fuckin’ teeth.

“I’ll have to see it to believe it,” he said, tilting his head to the side and giving Tora a weird look.

“The fuck’s wrong with ya face.”

Quincey raised his eyebrows slightly, shrugging and shaking his head, “just thinking about something a friend told me recently.”

Tora huffed, rolling his eyes, _little shit_. Fuckin’ Quince and his cryptic bullshit. He needed a smoke, but first, “gonna take a piss. When I get back ya better be off the fuckin’ couch. And ya know what,” he said turning back to face him, “ghostwritin’ might just be the thing ya need to solve ya space sex book. Get ya out of ya comfort zone.” Quincey gave him a weird little smile, the fuck was wrong with him? “Ya know what, nevermind,” Tora grabbed his phone, pulling his keys from his pocket.

“Honey? Where are you going?” Tora strode to the door, no way was he spending the fuckin’ night here, like salt in the fuckin’ wound. “You’re still driving tomorrow, yeah?”

“Meeting’s at ten,” Tora called over his shoulder as he yanked open the door. “Be ready to go or I’ll drag ya out the fuckin’ door,” he paused, one foot out the door, “if Vince asks, I was here all night.”

“What? Tora—”

“Quince.” He turned to look at the blonde man, _please_. He waited until Quincey nodded once, and then he was gone.

*

Tora killed the car and sat in the darkness of the lot outside his building, staring up at the concrete box. Fuck, what a depressing shithole. He sighed, resting his head against the seatback as his eyes found the dent in the roof. He reached a hand up and skimmed his fingers against the place where the fabric puckered in, swallowing thickly. There was no way he could ever take her here—she deserved so much more, she deserved the fuckin’ world. A goddamn angel. He closed his eyes, pretending he was back in the darkness of her bedroom, Bobby, warm beside him, tucked under his arm. _Fuck_.

His phone buzzed and he lifted his hips gently to fish it from his back pocket, smiling softly as he read her message.

@Bobby: How was your day?

_If only ya knew, sweetheart_. He considered telling her how much he’d missed her, but, _shit_ , she’d only texted him one word all day…maybe she hadn’t felt the same. Didn’t want to overwhelm her with his fuckin’ feelings. He settled on honesty with a hint of flirting.

@Tora: distracting

@Tora: couldn’t stop thinkin about ya

Tora climbed from the car, smirking to himself as he sent her another text before striding around the hood of the car and taking the steps three at a time to his landing. As he was unlocking his door, his phone buzzed in his hand, the screen casting a dim glow between his body and the door, glinting bright off the handle.

@Tora: ya in bed?

@Bobby: Yeah, a little cold without you.

He felt the grin split his face as he pressed the dial button, shouldering his way into the apartment and locking the deadbolt behind him. It rang once as he toed off his shoes, pulling the gun from his waistband and walking over to the couch where he placed it on the floor under the armrest he used as a pillow. “Tora?” he smirked at the breathless sound of her voice.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he murmured—the sound of his voice pushing into the darkness of the bare apartment. Fuck, it felt good to hear her, to talk to her again, her soft breathing on the other end of the line.

“Are you in bed?”

He laughed softly, looking down at the couch. “Sure.” Definitely not the time to tell her about his relationship with beds. And he _did_ sleep on the couch, so for all intents and purposes, yeah, he was in bed. “How was ya day, Bobby?”

She paused, “could’ve been better.”

“Hmm,” he thought back to what Ronzo’d told him…but that couldn’t be connected. “How so?”

He heard her swallow on the other end as he pulled the smokes from his pocket, tossing them onto the floor beside the couch and sitting back, “I missed you.”

“Oh yeah?” he couldn’t help the smile that crept up his face. So, she _had_ felt the same way? Shit, he could’ve been texting her all day, but he’d think about that later. Tora lowered his voice until it scratched at the back of his throat, “what’d ya miss ‘bout me?”

He heard rustling on the other end, maybe the covers? And then she inhaled deeply, her voice muffled as she said, “I don’t know, everything?”

“What was that, sweetheart?” he laughed, “everything?” Shit, maybe she really did feel the same way? Could he dare let himself hope? “Ya gonna have to be more specific, Bobby.” Tora held his breath as he waited, could practically hear her weighing her words as his mouth ran dry at her response.

“Your hands.”

He inhaled slowly, shit, were they really doin’ this? Tora focused on keeping his voice steady as he pushed, “what about my hands, Bobby.” He needed to hear her say it, that she wanted him as badly as he wanted her. That this wasn’t all in his fuckin’ head, that the other night hadn’t been a mistake for her.

“I like how they feel when you touch me,” she breathed softly.

_Holy sweet fuck_. They were doin’ this. He swallowed thickly, his tongue was so fuckin’ dry, “close ya eyes, Bobby.” He inhaled slowly again, could feel his heart racing in his chest, so close to his fuckin’ throat. Was worried his voice was gonna fuckin’ shake. “What’re ya wearin’.”

He heard her smile, “your shirt.”

Tora’s mouth fell open around a groan, “fuck, ya know what seein’ ya in my shirt did ta me?” His palm skimmed over the tented fabric of his jeans, so fuckin’ tight already at the memory of seeing her in his clothes. “Standin’ in ya kitchen barefoot with ya little fuckin’ mug ‘n shit?” He took a breath, rubbing his palm firmly against the head of his cock through the denim, “couldn’t fuckin’ think straight all the way to work—almost hit a fuckin’ pole.”

“A pole, huh?” He could hear her smirk around the question. Fuckin’ feisty, she knew what she was doin’—had to.

“Yeah Bobby. Fuck,” he closed his eyes, leaning his head back, remembering the way she’d looked right before he’d scooped her up, her body so fuckin’ warm and soft under the thin material. “Too sexy for ya own damn good.” He could see her, the way she’d looked on the couch from between her thighs, her hand on her tit, head thrown back and throat rippling as she swallowed, the slick of her along the edge of her panties. “Wanna taste ya again.” Fuck, if he were there, no way his tongue wouldn’t be on her, finally slipping between her folds. Tora swallowed thickly, his hand rubbing up and down the length of his cock through his jeans. His voice was hoarse with need as he whispered, “where d’ya want my hands, Bobby?” Needed to hear her say it.

She hummed before breathing, “my chest.” And then his heart nearly stopped as he heard her moan.

“Fuck, Bobby,” he groaned around her name, his hand desperately tugging at the button of his jeans as he imagined her touching herself to the thought of his hands on her tits, the sound of his voice. “Talk to me.”

He listened as she took a breath ragged with desire, pressing his heels hard against the floor as his hips bucked reflexively against the hand undoing his zipper. “I want your mouth,” she whispered, “your tongue…”

_Fuuuuck_ , he almost hissed as he finally got the zipper down, roughly tugging his jeans and briefs down around his thighs, “where, Bobby?”

“My—” she hesitated, but Tora didn’t care—he fisted his cock, desperate for touch, _her_ touch, sweet fuck, yeah. _Her touch_. “On my t-tit,” she practically moaned.

Tora’s mind blanked for a second at the word that’d dropped so hungrily from her lips, “holy shit, Bobby, ya always talk like that?”

He listened as she laughed softly, “told you, I do my research.”

Tora’s eyebrows shot up, his hand stilling around his cock and dipping to lightly stretch the skin of his balls that had drawn up tight against his body. “Fuck, sweetheart,” he laughed, “what I gotta do to be ya lab partner?”

“Well,” he could hear her smile as she said, “you definitely have to pass the audition.”

_Fuckin’ feisty_ —he laughed, “audition? Shit, sweetheart. Didn’t know there’s a test.” He brought his hand back up to grip his cock, remembering the way his shirt had clung to her tits, the wet fabric of her panties the night before as she stepped over him on the kitchen floor. Her hunger as she’d kissed him on the car. Her body rocking against his hand on the couch as he sucked the skin along her throat, feeling her moans vibrate against his lips. “Bet I pass.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Mmm,” he stroked himself slowly. “Definitely, sweetheart. Ya wearin’ anything under my shirt?” He held his breath waiting for her answer, hoping his shirt was the only thing covering her beautiful fuckin’ body.

“Just undies.”

“Mmm,” he smiled—even now, when she was havin’ fuckin’ phone sex with him, she found a way to be fuckin’ cute. “Ya _undies_ , huh?” he emphasized the word. Fuck, he loved this woman. “Take ‘em off.”

He listened to the muffled sounds of fabric against the phone before she breathed, “they’re off.” He thumbed a bed of precum off his head, stroking firmly at the thought of Bobby in his fuckin’ shirt and nothin’ else.

“Want ya to spread ya legs, Bobby,” he licked his lips imagining himself at the end of her bed, her knees over his shoulders, “wide enough for me to fit, ‘kay?” He waited a second, pumping his fist up and down, “ya ready for me?”

“Mmm,” she hummed softly.

He swallowed, “use two fingers, sweetheart.” His breathing was just as ragged as hers, “tell me how wet ya are.”

Moments later—he couldn’t be sure if he’d imagined it, but he was pretty sure—he heard the slick of her fingers as she moaned his name, “so wet, I’m so wet.” He listened harder, panting as he realized he could definitely hear her fingers moving along her folds.

“Fuck, Bobby.” He imagined his tongue along her slit, his thumb on her clit, the feel of her legs trembling around his ears. “Tell me what ya taste like.”

He dipped his hand down to circle his balls twice before returning his fist to his cock, swiping his thumb along his head every couple strokes. “Like tea?”

He couldn’t help his laugh, a little shocked but incredibly aroused at the idea that she’d actually tasted herself. “Fuck, wish I could lick ya fingers myself. Or better yet, wanna lap ya up, Bobby.” He imagined her wide eyes watching him as he’d circle her clit with one hand, his other cupping her ass, one thumb pressing into her back entrance as he’d tilt his head, stretching her walls with his tongue. His voice was a growl of desire, “ya ever been tongue fucked, sweetheart?”

His heart leapt and he groaned as she said, “n-no, but you knew that.”

He hadn’t, but fuck if it didn’t make him that much harder. He wanted to do everything with this woman, experience everything with her. “Want ya to rub yaself, Bobby. Slow,” he breathed, “I’d go slow on ya at first.” She moaned again as he heard the kiss of her wetness, “yeah, that’s it, sweetheart. Slow circles.”

“Toraaaa,” she moaned. Fuck, he wanted to live in that sound for the rest of his goddamned life.

“Shit, ya got a free hand, Bobby?”

“Mmhmmm,” she moaned again, she was so fuckin’ responsive. Tora wanted desperately to be there, between her legs, feel her twitch and gasp under his hands, his mouth.

“Want ya to put a finger inside yaself,” he groaned, pumping harder, imagining the feel of her, how tight she’d be, “tell me what ya feel.” Tight and wet, she’d be so fuckin’ warm and wet.

“Tight, so wet,” she confirmed and he squeezed his eyes shut harder at the idea that they were both imagining him inside her, her around him. “Touch me, Tora,” she breathed.

At her words, he felt the tension in his lower abdomen bubble over and he moaned her name as he came on his jeans, could hear his cum hit denim, the floor. “Sweet fuck, Poppylan.” He listened, panting, his hand finally stilling as she cried his name, the sound of fabric muffling her sounds.

For a moment he was alone in the silence of the apartment, panting softly. And then she was back, “Tora?”

“Yeah, Bobby?” they were both breathing hard, and he waited a couple moments before smirking lightly, “take it I passed?”

He didn’t need to see her to know she’d rolled her eyes, “mmm, solid nine.”

He laughed, “a nine? Shit,” he said, _fuckin’ feisty woman_. “Sounded like ya were enjoyin’ yaself, sweetheart.”

He listened as she drew out her words carefully, “I mean…have to leave room for improvement.” She took a breath, “imagine it’s better in person.” Tora felt the air leave his lungs as he quickly inhaled again, did she really fuckin’ mean that? As in…she was open to going further? He almost didn’t hear her as she continued softly, “never done that before.”

He frowned slightly, “what, touch yaself?”

“No, like…” she drifted off.

_Oh._ He laughed softly, realizing they’d both experienced a first together. With each other. “Well shit, me neither, sweetheart.”

“Really?” she sounded shocked.

Tora frowned. “Yeah, Bobby. Really.” Shit, he’d gotten around enough, but never anything serious. Definitely nothing where he’d felt comfortable enough to be fuckin’ vulnerable, to jerk it on the phone. Shit, Bobby was it.

He listened as she again spoke slowly, as though she were hoping for a certain answer, afraid he might disappoint, “you…doing anything tomorrow night?”

Tora smiled, shit, so maybe she really had missed him as much as he’d missed her. No way was he passing up the chance to see her again so soon. Might even make the morning with Quince bearable. “Dinner?”

“I’d like that,” she said softly.

He nodded around a smile as he glanced around the room for something to wipe with. “Why don’t I pick ya up from work?”

“I’d love that.”

He laughed softly, so would he. “‘Kay, Bobby. S’a date.”

“See you in the morning.”

“Yeah, sweet dreams, Bobby,” he said, fingers tugging at the hem of his shirt. “Try not to dream ‘bout me too much.”

He smiled as she laughed, “mmkay, Tor. Night.”

_“Pfft, pfft_ , Tor.” He couldn’t get enough of her. Fuckin’ feisty. Tora put aside his phone, quickly stripping the shirt from his back and patting it over his jeans before leaning to swipe it along the floor. He shucked his jeans the rest of the way off his legs and pulled his briefs back up, lying down on the couch, one foot on the floor, quickly and miraculously falling asleep, memories of Poppy dancing across his lids.

*

“Just get in the fuckin’ car, Quince,” Tora growled, tugging the bill of his cap down firmly. He needed a fuckin’ smoke, which would make three this morning, and it wasn’t even ten o’clock. Shit, how’d the blonde man always manage to get under his fuckin’ skin? Tora had shown up a half hour early to the penthouse and had bangin’ on the fuckin’ door for five minutes before the elevator doors had opened behind him, Quincey stepping out, yoga mat over his shoulder and a latte in hand. Tora’d immediately turned, brushing past him to walk through the open doors, mashing his button for the ground floor as he’d growled, “I’ll be in the fuckin’ car.” So, he really wasn’t in any mood for Quincey’s shit.

“Tora,” Quincey leaned down and peered through the passenger window from the sidewalk outside the skyscraper of which he lived at the top. “I really must insist we take the Ferrari,” he said calmly, one hand in his pocket. “I need to make a lasting impression and,” he sighed, glancing above Tora’s head, “well, honey, I hate to break it to you, but…” he trailed off, pointing meaningfully at the dent. _Pfft_ , Tora rolled his eyes, he had a feeling that if Quince knew how he’d fucked up the roof, he’d never let Tora drive him in any other vehicle ever again, on principle.

“Get. In. The fuckin’. Car,” he glared at Quincey, fingers itching for the pack of smokes in his center console, “ _now_.” He really shouldn’t—she’d smell it on him if he got too close, and he intended on getting close. “Or so help me, ya little shit, I will throw ya in the goddamned trunk and drive into the fuckin’ river.”

Quincey’s eyes widened and he quickly opened the door, climbing in. He clicked his teeth, “I mean, if it’s that important…” _She is_. Tora didn’t wait for Quincey to buckle as he peeled away from the curb. They were only a three-minute drive, but he was determined to park perfectly outside her building.

“Now, Tora,” Quincey said, pulling out his phone and tapping on it lightly, “I know I said I’d meet with her, but I meant it. I’m not signing a contract if it’s not a good fit.” Tora rolled his eyes, he wasn’t even giving her a goddamned chance—had already judged her cause of the fuckin’ strawberry girl shit. He was never drinkin’ again, fuck.

“Quince. We been over this.”

“Honey,” Quincey turned to face him, one knee pulled up slightly, “I’m just worried about her motivations.” Tora huffed. Was it so impossible she’d want him for a reason besides his body or Quincey?

“Well, shit. Thanks, Quince,” Tora pulled up slowly outside the building, leaning forward slightly to make sure his wheels were tucked against the curb. After killing the car, he glanced over at Quincey, who looked alarmed.   
  
“What are you doing?”

_Tch_ , Tora threw his door open, quickly rounding the car and walking over to the large glass entrance of Poppy’s building. With each step closer, he could feel the anger leaving his body. Shit, he was excited to see her—hadn’t been able to stop hearing her moans from last night, imagining what could’ve been if he hadn’t been at the penthouse for so long, if she’d invited him over. Hell, he would’ve booked it to her place, no question. He pressed a finger to the elevator button, schooling his face in the reflection of the metal doors as he bit back his smile—the last time he’d been here he’d been grinnin’ like a fuckin’ idiot, and if Quince weren’t standing beside him, he realized, there was no way he’d be able to keep his face neutral. Even with his mouth slightly downturned, though, he could see the hunger in his eyes. Fuck, he wanted her. Wanted to feel her body pressed his again. Couldn’t fuckin’ wait for the end of her workday. Shit, maybe she’d leave early? _No,_ he told himself as they stepped onto the lift, _she’s got a job to do and it’s fuckin’ important to her. No distractions._

He glanced at Quincey’s reflection in the door, making eye contact with the man who’d been staring at him. “Best fuckin’ behavior,” Tora said lowly as the doors slid open, taking the image of his brother with them as the man raised his eyebrows.

“I told you, honey,” but Tora didn’t hear the rest of what Quincey said. He could see her through the glass door of the office where she stood facing away from him. Even from behind, she was breathtaking—she was wearing the bright flowery jacket she’d had on that night at Chevy’s, but her hair was twisted into two braids that hung down her back instead of the one. Her skirt was knee length, but tight around her hips, her thighs…her ass. Tora’s mouth ran dry as he followed a couple paces behind Quincey—he could hear her voice muffled on the other side of the glass and, as Quincey opened the door, she flung her arm out to the side, grasping some colorful folders, “yes, jeez! _Of course_ I want him, Dene. Are you happy?”

Tora tripped lightly, his lips parting around a sharp inhale. Who was she talkin’ about?

Quincey didn’t miss a beat, the little shit, Tora could hear the smile on his voice, knew the fucker was grinning without needing to see his face as he followed him through the door, “oh yes, honey. Very.” He watched as Poppy turned slowly from the two people she’d been talking to, her mouth open in shock and eyes glued to Quincey as he leaned against a desk slightly off to the side. “I mean, I’m not usually into the corporate vibe, but this is definitely my kind of office,” Quincey drawled as Tora watched a bright blush blossom across her face, letting his eyes track its progress as the flush rushed down her neck. He licked his lips as the vibrant red deepened the purple color of the little bruises where his teeth had sucked along her throat before dipping below the V of the shirt. “Tora,” Quincey tilted his head without looking back, “I take it all back, honey. You were right.”

Tora didn’t look as Quincey finally turned to face him, his eyes had locked onto Poppy’s, watched as her blush deepened somehow further, the hand flung out to her side falling slightly as she inhaled. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Quincey grinning deviously at him, but he didn’t fuckin’ care. Let him see how much he wanted this woman. He already knew about her, shit they were in her fuckin’ office to sign a damn contract that would ensure her continued connection to them—besides, he could barely think through the fog in his head as he watched her suck her bottom lip between her teeth. Quincey said something else, turning to speak to the other two people—her coworkers? Tora didn’t fuckin’ care, all he could think about were her moans from last night, his name drawn out over her tongue, the soft wet sounds as she fingered herself, _touch me, Tora_. He swallowed, the heat in his gaze boring into hers, mirrored and met with the same intensity, as he strode toward her—there was no one else, nobody here with them as he extended a hand toward her.

“Oh, this is my bodyguard, Tora,” he could feel Quincey’s eyes on his back as she gave him her hand, so soft, warm.

And her fingers, shit. He smirked lightly thinking of where they’d been, where she’d put them last night to the sound of his voice. Her moans as she touched herself. _Touch me, Tora_. He rubbed his thumb against her knuckles, “pleasure.” He released her a moment later, listened to her soft exhale as he moved to stand just behind Quincey.

“Oh,” Tora glanced behind her as Poppy whirled around to face the woman with the lavender hair— _Erdene_ —who wore a smirk that rivaled Quincey’s, one finger wagging from Tora to Poppy and back to Tora. “Are we pretending this isn’t a thing?” Tora glanced at Poppy’s reflection in the window behind her—she was glaring daggers at her friend. He smirked. Fuckin’ feisty little hamster.

“You know,” Quincey leaned forward just slightly, inclining his body perhaps unconsciously toward Erdene, “we walked in just as you were saying something about how _of coooourse_ you wanted—”

Tora whipped his head to glare at the blonde man, “Quince.” He had half a mind to drag him back to the car, throw him in the trunk, and make good on his threat. Hell if he was gonna let the little shit embarrass his Bobby—it was one thing if her friend was doin’ it. He had no doubt Bobby could handle that, but he knew she wouldn’t defend herself against Quincey. She practically idolized him, for fuck’s sake. _And_ she needed him to sign the fuckin’ deal.

Poppy had turned back to look at them and he saw her eyes flicking back and forth between him and Quincey as she tilted her head slightly. Quincey glanced back at Tora, rolling his eyes on a sigh before he pushed off the desk to extend a hand toward Poppy. “Call me Quincey, dear.” Tora watched their introductions with narrowed eyes—the man had done an about-face from a couple moments ago in the elevator. _But why?_ Hell, he knew Bobby was special—instantly likeable—but this was Quincey. Man held strong opinions not so easily reversed, fuckin’ judgmental little shit. And here he was, beaming at Bobby. Tora tuned back in as she was introducing her coworkers— _Jacob_. Tora looked the man up and down, taking in the flop of brown hair disheveled, the glasses, his baggy short-sleeve button-down, the ill-fitting pants. Most likely not a threat, but then again, Bobby didn’t seem like the type to date based on appearance. He glanced at Erdene as Poppy introduced her—though Quincey seemed interested in getting to know her, her piercing blue gaze was trained on Tora. Her smirk was gone, in its place…suspicion? He tilted his head, holding her gaze with a neutral expression until she nodded once, almost unnoticeable, turning back to Quincey. He cocked an eyebrow, a test?

“That sounds wonderful, honey,” Tora glanced at Quincey, who waved for him to follow as Poppy showed them into a conference room. He leveled a glare at Jacob as he passed—Erdene clearly had Bobby’s best interests in mind, he didn’t know her yet, but she seemed alright. This Jacob, though…man hadn’t spoken yet and Tora couldn’t get a clear read on him. But he’d come back to that later, he thought, watching Bobby’s hips sway side to side as they followed her into the room. Tora slumped down into a chair at the end of the table facing the door, watching as Jacob scurried past the glass wall, glancing away when he met Tora’s gaze. Poppy sat on the other side of the table, a couple chairs down toward the middle directly across from Quincey, Erdene on her other side who got up every so often to grab papers from a side table and to fill some paper cups with coffee from a box. Tora watched Poppy as she spoke animatedly, leaning across the table to shuffle papers in front of Quincey. Her tits pressed against the surface, swelling up against the V in her shirt, rendering the outfit much less modest than it’d been moments ago. Tora swallowed, meeting her gaze whenever she happened to glance up. He watched as she leaned back for Erdene to show Quincey something on a tablet, and when Poppy looked over at him again, he smirked lightly, bringing two fingers up to brush his lips, enjoying the way she immediately blushed. _Whatcha thinkin’, Bobby?_ Her throat rippled as she swallowed before pulling her gaze away from his, turning her attention back to the meeting as Quincey asked a question about the timeline of the project. Tora vaguely registered that the deadline would be fairly quick—he’d probably need to work quite a bit with Poppy in the coming weeks if he signed on. Tora smiled to himself as he watched her rub her own lips absent-mindedly.

Quincey pushed back from the table, stretching his legs as he flung his arms out, whirling away from Erdene to face Poppy in his chair, “honestly, I’d love to work with you, honey.” Tora glanced over at him, eyebrows raised. Shit, he was gonna sign? He bit his tongue against a smile, determined not to give the man an inch as he glanced back at Tora, smiling, “the project sounds amazing, and I think ghostwriting will give me a chance to really experiment with my writing in a way I haven’t been able to in a while.” Tora blinked, shit had he actually listened to him? “So, where do I sign?”

Poppy was out of her chair a moment later, “oh my gosh, Mr. Noyou— _Quincey_ , you will not regret this,” she said quickly, opening the folder and pulling out a stack of papers stapled together, as though worried he might change his mind. She slid it across the table to him and fumbled a pen as she sat back down, glancing over at Tora. _Fuck_ , his chest tightened. She was phenomenal. He wasn’t sure what his expression looked like, but whatever she saw made her beam at him.

Tora glanced away quickly, rising half out of his chair as Quincey choked on a gulp of coffee—what the hell’d happened? He watched Quincey closely, Erdene rushing to the side table to grab some napkins, as the man blinked across the table at Poppy, who had stretched a hand halfway toward him, not sure how to help. “Poppy, dear,” he said slowly. “I’m so sorry, I must not have caught it before,” Quincey tapped his chest lightly as he cleared his throat. Tora frowned, was he not gonna sign? What was happening? “What did you say your name was?”

Tora shifted, letting his ass fall back against the chair. _The fuck?_ She’d already introduced herself. His eyes flicked to Poppy as she smiled, “Wilkes. Poppylan Wilkes.”

Tora watched as Quincey’s jaw slackened momentarily before the man quickly recovered. What the hell was going on? Quincey swiped his tongue out to lick his lips quickly before he nodded once, a strangled sound escaping from his throat.

“Quince, ya good?” Tora leaned against the table, angling his body toward the blonde man to try to see his face.

He watched as Quincey glanced at him and quickly away back to the contract, nodding jerkily, “mmhmm.” He grabbed the pen, signing with a flourish without even flipping through the contract. Sight unseen. Tora felt his eyebrows draw together as Quincey suddenly stood, his eyes wide as he turned to Tora. There was that fuckin’ cryptic grin again. “Tora,” he said, pulling out his phone and tapping the screen for a moment. “I forgot something in the car, would you be a dear and accompany me?”

Tora frowned, the fuck was he acting this way? Shit, he’d wanted to congratulate Bobby. He stood, fishing his keys from his pocket and tossing them at Quincey’s head, who narrowly caught them with a gasp.

“Tora, I’ve had an epiphany,” he said suddenly, seemingly changing course and sliding the keys down the table back to Tora. “We need to get back—urgent.”

Tora huffed, rolling his eyes and picking up the keys. He walked to stand beside Quincey, grabbing the man’s hand and pressing the keys roughly into his limp grasp. “I’ll be down in a fuckin’ minute, Quince,” he said with a glare he hoped the man would read correctly despite his weird fuckin’ behavior.

Quincey gulped, nodding quickly and turning to Erdene and Poppy, who were both watching the exchange with looks of confusion. Even Jacob through the glass had paused what he was doing to stare. Tora sighed as Quincey quickly rounded the table, shaking their hands and talking softly to Erdene about whatever she’d shown him on the tablet as they left the room. _Finally_ , he thought, turning to meet Poppy’s gaze as she swallowed, “Tora?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 👀 👀 you catch that slip? I don’t think Tora even realized it heh heh
> 
> Credit: I shit you not, the three horoscopes Quincey/Tora quotes were notifications from my Co-Star app this week—a sign for sure! Couldn’t *not* use them, ya know?
> 
> Thank you thank you thank you for reading this story and for your sweet comments—they keep me going!
> 
> Ch. 19: the cliffhanger is resolved? maybe?? we'll see???


	19. Deep down

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Poppy doesn't get off work until 5pm, and Tora cannot wait.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am sorry in advance for the end of this chapter 😬 But I still hope you enjoy it 🙈
> 
> As always, characters belong to the real MVP Lilydusk, brilliant creator of Midnight Poppy Land. Support her on Patreon! https://www.patreon.com/lilydusk

**Chapter 19**

Tora sighed as Quincey quickly rounded the table, shaking their hands and talking softly to Erdene about whatever she’d shown him on the tablet as they left the room. _Finally_ , he thought, turning to meet Poppy’s gaze as she swallowed, “Tora?”

He stepped out from around his chair, keeping his eyes on hers as he made his way slowly around the table. She watched him, a blush creeping across her cheeks as she took in the return of the heat to his gaze, his body quickly closing the distance between them as he pushed aside the chairs that separated them, turning his back to the glass wall so that the bulk of his shoulders, his chest shielded her from her coworkers’ prying eyes. He’d been so good, restrained himself the last thirty minutes they’d been at the office, had held back his anger at Quince all last night, had resisted the urge to snap at the man for most of the morning, had even foregone the cigarette he’d so desperately needed, for this. For her. _Shit_ , he wanted her. Fuck Quincey, the little shit could walk home for all he cared—he needed to be alone with this woman, to return to her bright apartment covered in plants and cozy shit. Needed to hold her in his arms.

She shuddered on an inhale as he raised his hand slowly to skim up her neck, his thumb lingering on the bruises—shit, he’d need to be more careful, more discreet, too. When she blushed like this, it was impossible not to notice them, even with the collar of her jacket. He brought his hand to cup her jaw, running his thumb along her bottom lip, feeling her breath on his skin as her mouth parted. Could see her the edge of her bottom teeth, the shine of her inner lip as he pressed gently, dragging his eyes away, up from her mouth to meet her eyes. She hadn’t looked away, her lip moving slightly against his thumb as she swallowed, but otherwise standing completely still. Waiting. He smirked, drawing his lip between his teeth, “I like watchin’ ya work, Bobby.”

Whatever she’d been expecting him to say, it seemingly hadn’t been that, as her eyes widened and her lips parted further until he could see the swell of her tongue pressed against her lower teeth. A slow smile pulled at the corners of her mouth, her lip puckering around the light pressure of his thumb. “Oh?”

“Mmm,” he hummed, eyes roaming her face as he took in the way she was glowing up at him. He inhaled deeply, clenching his jaw against the feel of his cock rubbing his jeans.

There was a knock on the glass and Tora turned his head toward the sound, seeing Jacob on the other side. _The fuck?_ “Um, sir?” he called, trying to avoid eye contact with Tora whose dark glare threatened to melt the glass between them. “Mr. Noyouko would like me to tell you that he’s headed down and will take the car if you’re not there in a couple minutes…?” Fuckin’ Quince, shit. Tora clenched his jaw in earnest—the fucker couldn’t wait a goddamned minute?

“Oh,” Poppy pulled away from him, side-stepping to get to the door, her fingers slipping around his as she walked. He smiled to himself at the feel of her hand in his as she led him back to a desk in the main area of the office—hers? He peered around. There were photos of her with a couple different women tacked up on the fabric wall behind a computer, a collection of small vials near the keyboard, colorful notebooks and pens scattered about the desk, and a half-eaten bar of chocolate near where the desk met the window. _Definitely her workspace_ , he thought.

Tora walked over to the window, peering out where he could see the Starbucks across the street, his car parked along the curb below. He huffed a soft laugh seeing the roof from above—shit, the dent was visible even from up here. He turned to look back at Poppy who was quickly un-stapling the contract with a little metal claw-looking tool. She huffed a curl of hair away from her forehead as she frowned at the thing before she finally wiggled the staple from the papers. She threw it down on the desk, glancing at Tora as she strode quickly back around her desk, holding up a hand to him as he made to follow. “Stay, I’ll be right back.” He nodded, eyes following her down the office—fuck, something about seeing her in her element, bossin’ him around…he swallowed, taking a deep inhale.

Tora quickly turned his head toward the sound of a someone clearing their throat on the other side of Poppy’s cubicle wall. Erdene was looking at him from over Poppy’s computer, smiling slightly. “Hey, don’t think we officially met,” she said, inclining her head toward him, “Erdene. I’m the best friend.”

He nodded at her once, “Tora, the—”

“—mystery man she won’t tell me about cause he’s so special and she doesn’t wanna jinx it,” she narrowed her eyes at him. Tora felt his lips part in surprise before he could control his expression. He’d been about to say _bodyguard_ but shit, he liked what the hell she’d said way better. “Gotta say, man. You seem like quite the upgrade, but you better not hurt her or I’ll find you and kill you,” she said, staring him down. He blinked, biting back a smile at the idea of this chick pulling one over on the Tiger of Ares Street.

“I’d never,” he promised, and watched as she seemed to assess him, leaning slightly back from the wall. _Quite the upgrade_ , huh. He wondered again about the ex Poppy’d mentioned. If even her best friend hadn’t like him, guy must’ve been a real fuckin’ tool.

“So, a wine box, huh?” she said finally, a smirk playing across her face. “Real smooth, you pull that move on all the girls?”

He frowned slightly, wondering what else Poppy had told her. But Erdene’s words about the mystery man shit cut through his doubt—clearly she didn’t know that much about him, and, thinking back to that first night, Poppy _had_ been on her way back to her friend with the box. It was entirely possible, he reasoned, that she’d seen his name and wrung some kind of confession from Bobby. He smirked lightly at the thought. “Nah, she’s fuckin’ feisty—had to see her again.” Erdene inclined her head as a slow smile spread across her face. Apparently, he’d said something right. “Ya screen all her mystery men?” he asked, his heart clenching slightly at the thought, hoping beyond hope that he was ready for her answer.

Erdene narrowed her eyes, “you let her bite you back?” Tora kept his face neutral, desperately fighting the urge to crack a grin as he imagined how red Poppy’s face must’ve been when Erdene’d seen the marks on her throat. Shit, no wonder they were best fuckin’ friends. Two peas in a goddamned snark-pod. He tilted his head, running his tongue over his molars and cocking an eyebrow. She was clearly trying to get information about the nature of his relationship with Poppy, and if Bobby hadn’t shared anything with her… _mystery man she won’t tell me. So special. Doesn’t wanna jinx it_. Well, shit. He sure as hell wasn’t gonna step on Bobby’s toes by opening his fuckin’ mouth. Wasn’t gonna betray her trust, even to her best friend. Erdene smiled at whatever she saw on his face, “alright then, keep your secrets.” She quickly dipped back down along the other side of the wall as Poppy came running back to the desk.

“Just had to make a copy of the contract,” she explained quickly, pushing folders around on the desk as she looked for something. “Shoot,” she muttered under her breath.

“Need help, sweetheart?” he cocked an eyebrow at her, folding his arms across his chest as he moved to lean back against the desk beside her computer.

“Mmm?” she hummed absently as she continued to search, brushing against him as she found what she was looking for: a stapler that was tucked in the corner behind Tora. She put a hand against his bicep as she strained to reach around him, huffing as—even pressed against his torso—she couldn’t grasp it. She looked up at him with a slight frown and he couldn’t help but smirk at her, the blush of exertion coloring her cheeks. So fuckin’ cute.

“Ya sure there’s nothin’ I can do to help, sweetheart?” he cocked a brow, letting the corner of his lip pull above his teeth as he smirked harder.

“Yes,” she huffed, lightly rolling her eyes, “you could move,” she said. He barked a laugh, _holy shit, fuckin’ feisty!_ She gasped softly, seemingly realizing her tone, “oh my—I’m sorry, Tor—”

“Nah, sweetheart. Ya right, I _could_ move,” he said, stepping away and over to the window, looking out at a pigeon perched on the ledge.

A moment later, he felt her hand wrap around his pinky and ring fingers, “that’s Pudge.” She tapped the glass lightly, speaking to the bird, “Pudge, this is Tora.” He raised his eyebrows at her, unsure if he was supposed to respond. She looked up at him as though waiting for him to introduce himself. Tora’s mouth fell open around a smile. _Only Bobby, shit_ , he laughed to himself.

“‘Sup, Pudge,” he murmured.

“Oh my—Tora, look,” Poppy pressed her nose to the glass, looking down to the street below. _The fuck?_ He looked outside—could see Quincey standing outside the car leaning back against the hood as he talked animatedly on the phone. She waited until he’d leaned down, his face beside hers. “Quincey’s really good at parking, you should see if he’ll give you some pointers,” she deadpanned. Tora felt his mouth fall open as she raised her hand to her mouth, _pfft, pfft._

“Fuckin’ brutal, Bobby,” he murmured, his eyes shifting to hers in the reflection of the window. When she opened her eyes, she immediately found his gaze in the glass, swallowing. “Ya know, it’s funny,” he said, close to her ear, his breath on her hair, glancing away from her eyes in the window to look at her face beside his, “when we first got here, coulda sworn I heard ya say—”

She quickly turned, pulling her hand from his and clamping it over his mouth as he smirked. “I’ll walk you down,” she said, slowly drawing her hand away from his mouth and slipping her fingers around his, leading him through the glass door to the elevator lobby. Poppy pressed the button and glanced at him in the metal reflection of the door before turning her head back toward movement in the office—Tora followed her gaze, seeing Erdene and Jacob quickly look away from where they were now standing close to the door. He glanced back at Poppy who was rolling her eyes. She shook her head once and then tugged his hand, “come on.”

She quickly walked them to a door just down the hallway, turning around to look at him when they reached it and pressing back against the release until it clicked open. He brought a hand up above her head to help push the heavy metal open, keeping his eyes on hers as she walked backwards into the stairwell. “So, who were ya talkin’ about, Bobby?” he murmured, keeping pace with her movements as she backed against the wall of the landing until she was pressed against the concrete, one of her hands on his bicep as the one with the papers came to rest at his back, her feet between his as he leaned his head down. His lips skimmed her jaw as he brought a hand up to brush the hair that had escaped from the braid closest to his face back behind her ear, his thumb tracing her skin. “Who d’ya _want_ , Bobby?”

He listened as her breath hitched around his name, waited until she turned her head to look at him, and then his mouth was on hers, one hand moving up to cup the back of her head to him as the other slipped inside her jacket, running a hand up her thigh to hold her waist, drawing her body flush against his as she moaned against him. Fuck, he’d missed that sound, wanted—no, _needed_ —to hear her again. He opened his mouth against hers, his tongue slipping against her teeth as he moved his thumb to run along the underside of her tit. He felt her nip his tongue then, and he smirked against her lips, angling her head to deepen the kiss. Fuck, she tasted good, so goddamn sweet with a hint of coffee. Poppy moved her hand from his bicep to the front of his sweater, skimming up his chest until she fisted the material around his neck, drawing him closer.

He broke from the kiss, dipping his head further to press his open mouth, his tongue to her throat as she whimpered softly, the sound echoing in the stairwell. “Someone’s gonna come runnin’ if ya keep that up, Bobby,” he murmured against her skin, listening as she clamped her mouth shut, the sounds she still made now muffled in her throat. The idea that someone might find them, though, _sweet fuck_. Tora moved the hand in her hair down the length of her body until his palm gripped her ass, lifting her slightly up against the wall. Her skirt, sexy as it was, was too tight around her knees to allow for her legs to wrap him, though, so Tora drew his other hand down her side, lifting her up further so the swell of her ass rested on his forearms as he pinned her to the wall. He could feel every curve of her, every soft swell, pressed tight to his muscles. He needed more, less clothes. Shit, he could barely think straight, the smell of her intoxicating, her fingers at the back of his head where they worked under his hat, tugging at his hair.

“Tora,” she breathed as he sucked the skin along the neckline of her shirt, his tongue dipping beneath the material and running along her bra. Fuck, he wanted to strip her right then and there. He breathed hard against her damp skin. _Shit, calm the fuck down_. He tightened his grip on her as he panted, trying to slow his breathing as he let her slide back down the wall. He could wait, he’d told her he’d pick her up after work, fuck. After work. Tora took a shaky breath as she ran her hands back down the center of his chest, the corners of the papers catching on the fabric of his sweater. Tora bent slightly, pressing his lips against the top of her head, still breathing heavily as he brought a hand up to take the contract from her.

“Time’re ya off, Bobby?” he pulled away slightly, tucking stray hairs behind her ears as she straightened her jacket with one hand.

“Um,” she shook her head slightly, “like five.”

Tora nodded, swallowing. _Five_ , that was only…six hours away. He could make it six fuckin’ hours. “I’ll be outside when ya done,” he said, his voice low, hoarse with desire. Tora waited until she nodded, humming slightly, before he reached down to grab her hand, bringing her palm to his lips where he kissed her with an open mouth, tongue skimming her skin lightly as he held her gaze. A moment later, he’d released her hand, stepping away from her and jumping down the stairs. He looked back up at her briefly, shooting her a smirk before he continued down to the ground floor. He needed to get to Quince before the little shit crashed his fuckin’ car.

As Tora pushed his way out of the glass door to the building, Quincey whirled around, quickly rushing a hasty goodbye to whoever he’d been talking to on the phone when he saw the dark look on Tora’s face. “Quince, you little fuckin’ shit. Give me the goddamned keys,” he said as he rounded the front of the car. Quincey quickly held them out and Tora snatched them from his grasp as he stalked to the driver’s side. “What the fuck was that,” he said once they were both in the car. “Ya’ve been bitchin’ and moanin’ about this meeting, bein’ a real fuckin’ asshole, holdin’ it over my fuckin’ head like I ask ya for favors all the goddamned time, and then ya go and sign the fuckin’ contract without even readin’ it,” he shoved the papers against Quincey’s chest in the passenger seat and started the car, “sight-un-fuckin’-seen.” He peeled away from the curb, swinging a U-turn suddenly, “and what the fuck is this about a goddamned epiphany? The fuck was so urgent ya couldn’t wait two goddamned motherfuckin’ minutes?” Tora reached for the pack of cigarettes on the console, quickly lighting one and rolling down his window as the nicotine cut the sharp edge of anger from his chest. He hadn’t wanted to fuckin’ leave her and he still hadn’t gotten a fuckin’ answer to the question he’d asked her. Needed to hear her say it. Goddamn Quincey, the little piece of shit. 

“Okay, it’s hard to hear you when I’m being attacked,” Quincey said slowly, thumbing through the contract, “and, what can I say,” he threw up a hand, “I had a change of heart.”

Tora groaned, why the fuck couldn’t he have had a change of heart before today? He could’ve spent last night with Bobby instead of jerkin’ it alone on his couch, unable to fuckin’ touch her, see her. Could only listen as she moaned about his fuckin’ hands on her body, his tongue. Tora exhaled hard. 

Quincey eyed him from the passenger seat as they pulled up outside his building, Tora throwing the car into park as he let his head fall back against the seat, closing his eyes as he took another drag. Fuck, he should be happy. Quincey’d signed the contract which meant Bobby’d solved her problem at work. He pulled at the bill of his hat, taking a deep breath before opening his eyes as Quincey finally spoke.

“I’m happy for you,” he said, staring at his brother with an intensity Tora hadn’t seen in a while. He frowned, _where the hell had that come from?_ Tora swallowed, quickly taking a drag on his cigarette for something to do, his chest tightening at the change in the other man’s demeanor. _Happy for him?_ His jaw tightened as Quincey continued, “anyway, something came up. I’m busy tonight, so I don’t need you to come over.” They sat in silence for a moment, Tora’s frown deepening—he’d already made up his mind he wasn’t spending the night beta-reading at the penthouse, so the relief he normally would’ve felt at being given the night off didn’t register. But the man was acting…not like Quincey. “Might be nice to celebrate with her?” he raised his eyebrows at Tora.

Tora clenched his jaw, _and there he was._ “Quince, get the fuck out,” he huffed.

“I’m just _saying_ ,” he reached for the door handle, “the chemistry was palpa—”

Tora leaned over and smacked the back of his head, glaring as Quincey yelped. “Okay, uncalled for—I was _complimenting_ you, ever hear of it?” Tora sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose before raising a hand to smack him again as Quincey quickly leapt from the car. He leaned back down against the open window after he’d closed the door.

“Quince, if ya don’t move I’m gonna run ya over.

“Mhmm, hey,” he said, “I’m curious—she’s the girl from the liquor store, right? The one in the picture? Was that the first time—”

“What’s it to ya?” Tora growled. He really didn’t want to deal with Quincey’s bullshit right now. He needed to head to Poppy’s place to talk to Gyu and at some point, he needed to make some semblance of progress on tracking down fuckin’ Goliath so he could report to Vince before five. No way in hell was he letting anything ruin his plans with Bobby tonight.

“No reason,” he shook his head quickly. Tora sighed. There was clearly a fuckin’ reason, but he’d find out later. He just wanted this conversation to fuckin’ end—Quince was somehow making the minutes drag by even slower than usual. “She from the city?” he asked.

“Fuckin’ Christ, Quince,” Tora glared at him, “the fuck’s with the third degree?”

Quincey widened his eyes in mock innocence, “I’m just curious how a pocket-sized, adorable woman like her ended up with the Tiger of Ares Street.” Tora clenched his jaw, anger burning at the back of his throat. He’d wondered the same fuckin’ thing plenty of times but hearing it from Quincey was a bitter fuckin’ pill. “She just seems very…the opposite of you,” Quincey ventured. Tora glared out the windshield, his eyes coming to rest on a pigeon pecking along the curb. He thought back to the way she’d introduced him to the fuckin’ bird outside her window. She’d named it, for fuck’s sake. _Pudge, pfft_. Fuck, she was too good for him. “Hey,” Quincey tapped against the inside of the car door, “you’re brooding again—it was just a question. _You need to remember you are not damaged goods_ ,” he quoted as Tora rolled his eyes.

“Fuck, Quince. That was _your_ star shit, not mine.”

“Yeah,” he said, straightening away from the car on a sigh, “but you need to hear it, too.” 

*

As Tora turned down Poppy’s street, he groaned, stopping short in the middle of the road as he suddenly remembered what Quincey’d told him a couple days before on the bus bench. The little shit had sent Ronzo the fuckin’ photo he’d taken of Tora and Poppy outside her building. He leaned his head back against the seat, reaching blindly for the pack of cigarettes on the console—huffing as he realized there were only a couple left. _Shit_ , and it was a new goddamned pack. He threw it back down as he thought of how disappointed she’d be if she knew, if she could see how fuckin’ dependent he was, how fuckin’ weak. He brought a hand up to adjust his hat before running his knuckles along the dented fabric above his head, taking a deep breath. It’d be a quick conversation, then he could move onto Goliath, and he’d probably still have enough time for a workout and shower before swinging back to her office. He let himself think about her for a moment longer—the jacket he now associated with their night at Chevy’s, the skirt that hugged her hips, her thighs, the fabric tight around her ass, the way the V of her shirt revealed the dip between her tits. He wanted to run his tongue between them, if she’d let him. Shit, how much time was there? He fished out his phone from his back pocket—still over five hours, fuck.

Tora pulled off to the side of the road, quickly getting out of his car and heading over to the pedestrian gate near the security booth. “Oi, Ronzo,” he called out as he approached. “Gotta talk.”

The man poked his head out of the booth and nearly leapt toward the gate, “Big Bro!” he pushed open the gate for Tora, making eye contact but quickly looking away as he ran a hand through his hair, shoving a phone back in his pocket, “um, cool, cool, cool,” he said.

Tora frowned, the fuck was wrong with him? Looked nervous as hell. “Damien get ya all set up?”

“Oh, yeah. Yeah, all good here,” Ronzo said, leading him back toward the entrance of the booth, “say, you bring a chair with you?”

 _Shit_ , he’d meant to grab a cushion from the penthouse, but Quincey’d been acting so fuckin’ off that he’d completely forgotten. “Nah, I’ll bring one by later. What upgrades ya workin’ on?”

Ronzo nodded, “uh, yeah. Um, setting up an app for the gate so it’ll be more secure, getting sensors and cameras for around the building and the lot,” Tora nodded, glancing up along the side of the building to her balcony. Five hours. He could fuckin’ make it. “Big Bro?” He glanced back at Ronzo, inclining his head. Ronzo waited a second, his eyebrows pulling together slightly as he realized Tora hadn’t been listening. “I asked what this is all for…” he trailed off, worrying a lip between his teeth as Tora’s face remained set in a neutral mask.

Shit, what could he tell the kid? _Made ya quit ya job cause my girl lives here? Need her safe? Fuck._

“Does…this have to do with…Poppy?” Ronzo spoke slowly, pausing every few words to gauge Tora’s reaction, but it wasn’t until he’d spoken her name that his eyes flashed. “Never mind, never mind, was just asking cause I ran into her and it just seemed like too much of a coincidence,” he let out a low exhale as Tora glared at him. “Shit, please don’t break my other leg, Big Bro, I swear I’m not gonna tell anyone.”

Tora sighed, he knew that. Trusted Ronzo more than most. “What’d ya say?”

Ronzo paused, “I asked you to go easy on me…that is, if you’d please consider not breaking my leg…?” he said slowly.

Tora rolled his eyes, “no, ya fuck. To Poppylan, the fuck ya say to Poppy?”

“Oh, right,” Ronzo nodded quickly, eager not to get smacked. “Um, well she was still a little distracted after the guy, but she asked about you. Wanted to know how I knew you—told her we grew up together.” Tora frowned, narrowing his eyes— _the guy?_ “I swear, though, I didn’t say anything else. If she wants to know more, she’s gonna have to talk to you cause I’m a fucking fortress, Big Bro. I won’t say shi—”

“What guy?”

Ronzo blinked at him and Tora huffed. “Ronzo, ya said she was distracted after a guy—what fuckin’ guy and why.” He clenched his jaw. She hadn’t said anything about a guy, hadn’t seemed off. Wait…as he watched Ronzo’s face fall with the realization that he’d said something he shouldn’t, Tora remembered the phone calls, the texts. Some fuckin’ asshole who wouldn’t leave Bobby alone. The crack in her screen. The way she’d chucked the phone across the apartment. He was positive, had to be the fucker who was harrasing her. “Who.”

Ronzo sighed, looking out across the lot before running a hand along his goatee. “Shit. Don’t tell her I told y—” he gulped at the murderous look on Tora’s face. “He came a couple hours after Damien and Bryan left. Stood outside the gate while she laid into him—I mean, like, fucking eviscerated him. It was brutal, Big Bro. Said something about cheating, maybe an ex?”

 _An ex._ Right, she had an ex who Erdene didn’t like and who Poppy had mentioned at Chevy’s. She’d also said…Tora tilted his head. _Was with my ex for a while, he had to wait a real long time_. But she’d also said she’d never had sex before. He frowned, maybe the guy was still waiting? _A real long time_. Shit, he wasn’t sure there was a way he could even ask her without it comin’ across as fuckin’ clingy. Or creepy. Or worse, possessive. Fuck. He frowned again, _cheating._ Motherfucker was dead. “Ya get a name?”

“Yeah, it’s the one I texted you.”

Tora clenched his jaw. _Julri_. So, the fucker’s name had been sitting in his phone since yesterday. “Can ya track him down?”

Ronzo raised his brows, shaking his head slightly, “I mean, maybe? It’s just a first name though, the cameras aren’t set up yet, so I don’t have an image to go off either…” he trailed off, thinking. “Maybe she’s got a picture of him?”

Tora grunted, _shit_. He thought back to the way she’d chucked the photo from on top of the fridge into a drawer—hadn’t answered him when he’d tried to ask her about it. Bet that was the fucker. “Might have an idea,” he said. He looked at Ronzo again. “He a big guy?”

Ronzo immediately burst out laughing, quickly wiping his eyes when he saw Tora’s stony expression. “Sorry, Big Bro—it’s not you, it’s just—no. No, he’s not,” he said finally.

Tora bit back a smile—so maybe he didn’t have anything to worry about? Bobby said she’d handle it, had called the fucker annoying, not a real issue. And she’d told Tora that she’d talk to him if things got more than just annoying. Plus, from what Ronzo’d said, sounded like she’d given him a piece of her mind. _Hell yeah_ , fuckin’ Bobby, feisty as shit. Had been since the moment he’d met her…which reminded him. “Oi, how the fuck ya know her?”

Ronzo frowned slightly, “Big Bro? You serious?”

“Do I look like I’m fuckin’ around?”

He watched as Ronzo’s eyes widened to almost double their size. “Shit, no. I just—I mean, you were there. Chevy’s?” He looked at Tora in confusion and, when the man still hadn’t responded, he spoke more slowly, “she was at the bar. And I was working…at the same bar.” He looked at Tora in question.

Tora frowned. So Ronzo… _hadn’t_ known her beforehand? “That was ya first time meetin’ her.”

Ronzo nodded, “yeah, Big Bro. She’s definitely not someone I’d forget.” _Pfft, fair._ “You, um, you wouldn’t…forget her, right?” Ronzo looked at him nervously.

 _The fuck?_ “The fuck’s that supposed to mean.” What, was fuckin’ Ronzo tryin’ to pull something? He’d seemed real fuckin’ casual with her at the bar. If he was interested in her, the kid could fuck right the hell off.

“Nothing, nothing,” he said quickly then, hesitantly, “you meet her before Chevy’s?”

Tora scowled, huffing. Why the fuck did everyone want to know about the fuckin’ liquor store? “No, met her the night I told ya to track her down. The fuck are ya askin’ for?”

“No reason, Big Bro,” he said, hedging back toward the stool in the booth.

There was definitely somethin’ him and Quincey weren’t sayin’, but he didn’t have the energy to push further right now. He still had to talk to him about his shit-for-brains brother. “Told ya last week the big boss wants me lookin’ into Goliath again,” he murmured, leaning against the door to the booth and glancing around the lot, the street beyond the gate, the trees along the road. Maybe he was being paranoid, but the fact that they were in no man’s land on the border between clans was always at the back of his mind.

“Right, right. You need me to try lookin’ through that security footage again?” Tora thought for a moment before nodding. A couple weeks ago, Tora’d acquired a tape of the last known whereabouts of his brother, and Ronzo hadn’t been able to track his movements beyond a couple locations after the footage as Goliath had moved closer to the edge of the Ares Street District.

“Sure, can’t hurt,” he said, fishing out his phone from his back pocket, “but I need to know if ya can trace these texts.” Tora pulled up the chain with the unknown number and passed the device to Ronzo, whose frown grew deeper as he read them, his mouth falling open.

Ronzo swallowed, glancing up at Tora. “You really think this is him, Big Bro?”

“Who the fuck else?”

“Yeah, I guess,” Ronzo said, absently scratching his goatee. “So… _Moonbright_ , huh? You check it out?”

Tora grunted, nodding once. “Found a bag full of poker chips and shit, pretty sure it’s his,” he said quietly. “This stays between us,” he added after a second. “Haven’t run it up the chain yet, need it to stay that way ‘til I’m sure.”

“Aye aye, Big Bro.” He handed the phone back to Tora, “can’t trace those, though. Has he reached out since?” Tora shook his head. “Well, if he does, I could probably trace a phone call…don’t know if you’re able to set that up,” he shrugged and after a few seconds asked, “so, how was Moonbright?”

“Told ya,” Tora said as he pocketed his phone. Five hours to go. Fuck.

“No, I mean, you know. Besides the shit with Goliath.”

Tora frowned. _The fuck?_ “It’s in the middle of bumfuck, nowhere, Ronzo. How the fuck ya think it was?” In truth, it’d been peaceful, calm. He remembered the soft rustle of the trees, the brush of grass along the side of the highway. The yellow house, its white flowers. He clenched his jaw as the question that’d been eating at him pricked again: how’d Goliath end up there? And what were the fuckin’ chances it’d be _that_ town? _Poppy’s_ town? The same fuckin’ place from all those years ago, shit. He closed his eyes briefly against the thought that he hadn’t let himself really entertain. There was no way.

“Sorry, sorry, Big Bro,” Ronzo held up his hands, “just makin’ small talk.”

Tora huffed. Kid was sittin’ in a booth by himself in a parking lot all day. Course he was fuckin’ lonely. “I don’t know,” Tora sighed, “it was nice. Different from the city. Don’t know if ya remember, but we stopped there once, the four of us comin’ back from a run.”

Ronzo tilted his head with a smile, “you mean the Kingz?”

Tora rolled his eyes, “sure.”

Ronzo nodded fondly, “Right, right,” he laughed. “That was the time Goliath knocked over all that pop in the gas station trying to pants Quincey. Took forever to clean up—and _you_ were no fucking help, disappeared from the van—we were all worried the gas was gonna overflow or something.” Tora watched as a weird expression passed over his face. “That was, what, like ten years ago?”

 _No way_ , there was no way Quincey’d told Ronzo about the fuckin’ strawberry girl. It’s not like Ronzo’d been there to see his drunk confession on his 25th. Plus Quince wouldn’t betray his trust like that…and yet, the little shit had wasted no time in texting Ronzo the picture of him and Poppy. He stared at the kid, considering. Either way, he wasn’t gonna give him an inch. Tora narrowed his eyes before rapping a fist against the side of the booth, “update me when the cameras are installed, and get that gate shit figured out quick. Oh, and Ronzo, answer ya goddamn phone when I text ya,” he said as he walked away, tugging down his hat.

“Hey, Big Bro,” Ronzo called after him. Tora turned, pausing with the gate halfway open. “Where’d you get your hat, it’s fucking badass.”

 _Pfft_ , Tora rolled his eyes lightly, “Get it straight, Ronzo—it’s the one wearin’ the hat that makes it badass.” He watched Ronzo slump into the stool, nodding his head. “Ya ever want to train with the guys…” Tora held up his phone between two fingers as he turned, pushing through the gate.

*

Tora once again ran a hand through his still-damp hair as he checked his phone. He’d been leaning against the passenger door to his car along the curb outside Poppy’s office for a few minutes, too jittery to stay in the car, though he’d tried. He scrolled back through the messages they’d exchanged around midday as Tora was finishing up a quick drop-off for Martin.

@Bobby: You saw my outfit this morning—is it too formal for tonight?

@Tora: ya perfect sweetheart

@Bobby: Well, you might have to carry me if it involves a lot of walking. These heels were a mistake.

@Tora: good thing ya such a tiny hamster

@Tora: easy to carry around

@Bobby: 🙄 Not all of us can be 6 feet tall

@Tora: ya forgot some inches bobby

@Bobby: Remind me, how many inches?

@Tora: 3

@Bobby: Huh, weird.

@Tora: ?

It’d been a while since he’d texted her the question mark, and she still hadn’t responded. He’d tried not to dwell on it as he’d driven back to his apartment, but he’d found himself picking up the phone from the center console and checking his texts at every red light once he’d reached the city. And back at his apartment—the contents of Goliath’s bag emptied on the floor between his legs—he’d only just barely managed to order the loose pages by year. Hadn’t had the focus to actually read the shit much less make any kind of sense of why Goliath’d had any of it or what the fuck the documents meant. He’d considered again just texting the unknown number but had decided against it—if he were to take that step, he wanted to be in his right fuckin’ mind to think through every possible scenario and prepare contingencies for each. All he could think about was Bobby, though, and the look on her face he hoped to see when she saw the place he was taking her. Even texting his non-update to Vincent hadn’t carried the same dread as it usually did—Bobby’s smile like a light against the darkness of the clan and his responsibilities.

Tora patted his jeans pocket for the fifth time since he’d been standing on the curb—each time forgetting he’d left the pack in the car. As much as he wanted one, he was at least going to try not to smoke around her. _You’re killing yourself_. Fuck, the broken look on her face as she’d pulled the cigarettes from his hand was reason enough to try quitting. For her. He flipped his phone in his fingers again, peering through the glass door to the elevator in the lobby—it’d only slid open a handful of times, but each one had left him holding his breath only to let it out in a hard exhale at not seeing her. At that moment, his phone buzzed, and he nearly dropped it as he quickly thumbed the screen unlocked, frowning as he saw it was just a message from Quincey.

@Quince: Just heard from Martin—clan function this week. Date’s not set yet, but sounds like Dad’ll be there. Must be something big if even I have to go.

Tora swallowed thickly as he read the message back again, frowning as Quincey’s text bubbles appeared again. The man was right—if Quincey’s presence was being requested, it was a big fuckin’ deal—Vince had allowed his son to abdicate clan duties his whole life, but the blonde man was still heir to the big boss’s empire. He only ever made Quincey attend clan shit as a show of force, a unified front against a threat, usually Ninedaggers, but Tora hadn’t heard anything on that front. All seemed quiet besides the man in the container. _Shit_ , he realized with a sinking feeling at the back of his throat. That must have something to do with it.

@Quince: So if you were thinking of skipping, don’t.

Tora quickly sent a message back, confirming he’d received the warning before he again patted his pocket. _For fuck’s sake_ , he threw his head back. It was still a couple minutes until five. Why the fuck had he gotten here so early? His phone buzzed again and Tora bit back a groan as a couple women passed by, throwing hungry glances his way. He shook his head, pointedly ignoring them as he swiped back to the rest of his messages, feeling his face immediately crack into a grin as he thumbed the new messages from Bobby. She’d sent him an image which he quickly tapped. It was a shot from the window by her desk, he could see himself leaning against the car looking at his phone, the dent of his roof in shadow against the harsh light of the late afternoon sun. In the foreground, he could see Poppy’s reflection, her two hands wrapped around her phone as she smiled at her screen. And in between the two of them: the fuckin’ bird. He snorted, as he read the message she’d sent immediately after.

@Bobby: Pudge says hi!

Fuck, that was exactly what he’d needed—how the fuck did she always do that? He texted her back quickly as his phone rang, noticing that another message had come through as he’d been looking at the bird.

@Bobby: Thought it was bigger.

The fuck? He didn’t know what that meant but didn’t have time to really think about it as he picked up the call on a huff, folding one arm across his chest and resting his elbow against his wrist as he held the phone to his ear, angling his face toward the ground in case Bobby was watching. Didn’t want her to see the dark look on his face and think it was because of her. “The fuck d’ya need, Quince.”

“Nice to hear your voice, too, honey,” he said, quickly moving on before Tora could interrupt, “I want to have a little party to celebrate this new partnership with Poppy and her team.” Tora felt his throat close—it was one thing if Quincey just wanted to have a quiet get-together with the relevant people, but Quincey didn’t know the meaning of the word quiet. The absolute last thing Tora wanted was to drag them all further into clan shit than they already were.

“Quince, s’not a good—”

“And before you get all grumpy and shoot it down,” Quincey talked over him as Tora exhaled angrily, clutching the phone in his grip, “I’m going to keep it small—a little party at my place, that’s all. Catered, of course, maybe Black Swan? And I’ll get you a booze list. Probably safe to assume the clan thing’ll be sometime before the week’s end. So, what do you think of Friday?”

Tora glanced up at movement from the corner of his eye. “Sure, gotta go,” he said quickly, not really hearing what he was agreeing to and really not giving a single fuck either, as his lips parted, the hand holding his phone dropping away from his ear. He pushed off the car, watching as Poppy practically jumped through the open elevator doors, running across the lobby to the glass door which she pushed through easily. Tora barely had time to worry about whether she would make it through the door unscathed before she was across the sidewalk, jumping into his arms, hitting his chest with a soft _oh._ He took a small step back and his ass hit the car at the impact of her lips against his, her hands hooking around his neck as his arms tightened around her waist, one palm drawn up between her shoulders to press her firmly against him. _Sweet fuck_ , he’d missed her. Though she didn’t taste like coffee anymore, her tongue was sweet against his, warm as she smiled against his mouth. “Mmm,” she hummed as one of his arms pressed firm against her ass before she pulled away, bending her neck back slightly so she could look between his eyes. “Hey,” she smiled softly.

He laughed, feeling his phone buzz in the hand pressed against her back, “well, shit, sweetheart. Maybe I should pick ya up from work more often.”

She blushed, seeming to realize where they were, as she brought her hands down from his neck to rest on his shoulders as he let her slide back down his body, trying to ignore the feel of her heat against his crotch. He pocketed his phone, not bothering to check the message he was sure Quince had sent, and turned slightly to open the passenger door for her. “I gotta say,” she said, walking around the door and dragging her fingers across his chest lightly as she dipped her head to get in, falling backwards into the car before pulling her feet in, her knees constricted by the skirt, “parking is a beautiful ten out of ten.” She waved her hands out in front of her, gesturing toward the handful of inches Tora’d carefully left between the curb and the tire. He rolled his eyes, letting his mouth fall open as she continued, “you really outdid yourself.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he said, biting back a smile. Always so fuckin’ feisty, but his heart soared up to his throat at her teasing—she’d noticed. He closed the door gently behind her and strode around the hood of the car, running a hand through his hair to see if it was still damp. It was, but he was really tired of having it hang around his shoulders, hated the feeling of the wet shirt against his skin. He climbed into the car and quickly fished the strawberry tie out from under his sleeve, pulling it all back into a bun before starting the car and revving the engine. He glanced over at Poppy who’d been watching him with a small smile. “What’s that, sweetheart?” he cocked a brow at her as he threw an arm behind her seat, left hand on the wheel as he turned to look over his shoulder out the back windshield.

“Oh, very good form, tiger,” she quipped, smirking as she watched him back away carefully from the car in front of them. He rolled his eyes again, sighing.

“Ya know, ya real lucky I got a soft spot for cute hamsters, Bob.” 

_Pfft, pfft_ , she moved a hand in front of her mouth as she giggled, ducking her head before she looked over at him again, “you know what I think?”

He smirked, ready for whatever she was about to lay on him, “I’d love nothin’ more than to hear exactly what ya think, sweetheart,” he said, pulling away from the curb and out onto the street, the Starbucks zipping past on their left, then the drugstore on their right as they crossed the intersection.

“Hmm, exactly,” she hummed, smiling out the window.

 _Pfft_ , _exactly?_ “Exactly _what_ , Bobby? Ya gonna leave me hangin’?” he asked as he swung down a different street headed in the direction he remembered from the map.

“I think,” she started slowly, turning away from the window to face him as she drew her fingers lightly over the back of his hand that rested on the center console between them, her other hand twisting the end of one of her braids. “I think deep down you actually like it when I tease you.”

He could feel her eyes on his face as he licked his lips, “deep down, huh?” He flipped his hand over and felt as she settled her palm against his, her fingers threading through his own, wrapping to rest between his knuckles. He let his thumb brush the back of her hand as he turned down another street, the silence in the car suddenly thick.

“Tora?” she said softly as he pulled into the lot, quickly parking across a couple spots, not giving a shit at all —his mind on Poppy, only Poppy, as he killed the car. _Deep down_ , fuck. Wasn’t deep at all, she had to know that, right? What she meant to him? He turned to look at her, his hand tightening around hers as he met her gaze, fuck, it felt like falling every time. How did it feel like falling so much when his eyes dipped into hers? Every damn time. Had anyone ever seen him the way she did? Her mouth parted on an exhale as her eyes flicked between his and then he was leaning, his hand on the console pulling her closer, his other palm against her cheek, his nose skimming hers, and her lips, a tender homecoming as he pressed into her. _Deep down_. He tried to pour all the words he couldn’t speak into the kiss, his hands on her body like the precious thing she was— _his Bobby_ , tried to tell her with his fingers on her face, his palm pressed to hers, hoped more than anything she could hear him, his silent, pathetic fuckin’ plea. After a moment, he pulled away, slowly breaking their kiss breathing hard as he brought her hand up to his lips, kissing his way from her wrist to the place where his fingers wrapped between her knuckles.

He swallowed hard, steeling himself as he looked up to meet her eyes again, “not that deep, Bobby.” He watched as her lips parted before he nodded out the window behind her toward the shop. “Come on, got somethin’ to show ya.”

As she unbuckled, he pulled himself from the car, quickly closing his door as his other hand skimmed the dent in the roof, before walking around to her side to help her out of the car. When he opened the door, she swung both feet out at the same time, her knees constricted—Tora nearly groaned when he saw she was wearing the same shoes from Chevy’s. Had she chosen them on purpose? He hadn’t been able to hide how much he’d liked them last time. He glanced back up to her face, where he caught a smirk—she’d definitely seen him watching. Shit, he realized, biting back a smile—the shoes were no coincidence. The woman knew exactly what she was doing, knew exactly what effect she had on him, he could hardly wait for later once they were finally alone in the privacy of her apartment. He breathed deeply, extending a hand toward her which she took to get out of the car before lacing her fingers through his as he closed and locked the door.

“So, you haven’t told me what we’re doing,” she said, swinging the joined hands as they walked toward the front entrance. “Dinner at a florist?”

He laughed, opening the door for her and feeling her hand slip from his as she wandered in ahead of him. “Not dinner yet, Bobby. S’where I got ya plants.” He thought he remembered her asking where he’d gotten them from, so even if she didn’t end up finding the tent room as meaningful as he had, it wasn’t a total lost cause.

But his doubts died almost immediately upon entering the shop behind her as he heard her gasp, quickly moving her head back and forth as she took in the jungle they’d just entered in the city—this quiet little haven set off from the road. The sounds of cars muffled behind the closed door until they were left in the near silence—just the whir of the fan from the tent room, the soft hum of insects, and the gurgling of water somewhere in the corner. The misting shelves hissed softly along the wall as Poppy made her way toward the back, almost instantly. Tora followed a couple paces behind her, nodding once toward the older woman who was sticking shit in another piece of green foam. She waved slightly when she saw them before turning back to her work. When Tora turned to look back at Poppy, she was stepping through the archway into the warm tent room wandering slowly down one of the aisles, both hands outstretched as her fingers skimmed the tops of the plants, the occasional bee circling her head before returning to the blooms that stacked the shelves on either side of the walkway. Tora felt his breath leave his body as she stopped, turning slowly to face him. The loose hair around her face had frizzed in the sudden humidity of the room and her cheeks were flushed from the warmth. Or maybe something else, Tora couldn’t be sure of anything as he slowly closed the distance between them. Sure of nothing except that she was the most beautiful sight he’d ever seen. In all the times he’d closed his eyes and imagined this moment, nothing had prepared him for the look on her face now.

Slowly, her mouth opened in a smile as she broke away from his gaze to glance around at the plants, reaching a hand out to grab his fingers in hers. “I didn’t know there were any greenhouses in the city,” she murmured, “how’d you find it?”

 _Greenhouses_ , huh. So, these tents existed other places, too? The name made it sound like they were built specially for plants. Green shit.

He smiled at her, “thought ya might like it.”

“ _Like_ it?” she said, again looking around the room before she brought her free hand out to touch a shelf piled with tiny white flowers that reminded him of the ones from the yellow house. He almost laughed at the coincidence, like the fuckin’ universe was tryin’ to convince him of the impossible at every fuckin’ turn. “I _love_ it. Haven’t been able to garden since I moved here,” she glanced back up at him as he raised his eyebrows, about to make a comment about all the plants that practically spilled from her tiny apartment. “I mean, like, in the earth,” she clarified as though knowing what he’d been about to say, as she looked back at the white flowers, taking a step closer to press her fingers below the leaves and against the soil, her other hand stretched back toward him where she still held onto his fingers.

Tora stepped closer to the shelf, “damn, Bob. Didn’t know ya liked dirt so much,” he said as she rolled her eyes, though she kept her fingers in the soil. “Coulda just got ya a bag instead of the flowers,” he smirked at her as she huffed.

She took a deep inhale and he watched as her eyes slid shut for a moment, “it’s calming. Good memories, you know?” She drew her hand from the soil, running her fingers over the flowers before pointing at one and tugging Tora closer. “Look,” her thumb brushed against the center of one of the flowers which was enlarged, a white-green bud at the center where the white petals were falling away. “They’re not quite in season anymore, but the climate in here must have them thinking it’s their time to shine,” she said.

He frowned in confusion, why the fuck did she like _this_ flower specifically? Thing was fallin’ apart. “Looks dead, Bobby,” he said finally when she hadn’t continued.

“ _Tch_ , Tora,” she shook her head but couldn’t repress a smile as she rolled her eyes. “It’s actually at the beginning of the fruiting process,” she said, her thumb gently skimming it once more before she moved her hand, gently brushing through the rest of the plants on the shelf until she found what she was looking for. “Here,” she held back a clump of leaves and Tora swallowed against his suddenly very dry mouth, blinking in shock. Strawberries, bright red at the tips and a white-green color around the tops, same as the little fuckin’ flower bud she’d just shown him, all nestled against the soil where they drooped like heavy tears from the plant, white petals blanketing the soil at the base of the stems. He reached his free hand out, gently rolling one of them between his fingers—the fruits were so small, not like the kind he got at the store. Fragile, like if he squeezed even just a little, the inner flesh would burst from the shiny skin. He glanced back up to the tops of the plants, the white flowers, same as outside the yellow house. No shit. _I used to grow them_ , she’d said. Course, his mouth had been on her thigh, tongue on her strawberry tattoo, teeth sucking her skin as she moaned, but she’d known what she was sayin’, right? _Flowers_ , she’d said. Not bushes, _like flowers_. Little fuckin’ white flowers. A yellow house? He swallowed, withdrawing his hand slowly from the plants as she pulled one of the pots from the shelf. Tora reached his free hand out to her and she smiled up at him as she transferred the plant to his palm before turning away, leading him slowly down the walkway as her other hand skimmed the plants, _you have to give them love, Tora_.

“Bobby,” he said, looking down at the plant he’d shifted to the crook of his elbow. “How come ya like strawberries so much?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 🍓+🏡+🐅= 🙃??? 
> 
> Will this date last as long as their first? I sure hope so! Haha
> 
> Thank you thank you thank you for reading this story and for your sweet comments—they keep me going! I'm loving your predictions heehee
> 
> Ch. 20: Big little things happen, and a date continues 😉


	20. Incredibly patient

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A date continues! Will it go smoothly?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Name of this chapter dedicated to all of you lovely readers who have been so *incredibly* patient with these cliffhangers. I hope it’s worth it 🙈🙈and I hope you're fuckin' ready 😘
> 
> As always, characters belong to the real MVP Lilydusk, brilliant creator of Midnight Poppy Land. Support her on Patreon! https://www.patreon.com/lilydusk

**Chapter 20**

“Bobby,” he said, looking down at the plant he’d shifted to the crook of his elbow. “How come ya like strawberries so much?”

He heard her hum from in front of him before she glanced back at his face, then down at the plant against his torso. “Good memories. They were my dad’s favorite. I used to grow them with Granny at her house.” Poppy swung their hands gently as they walked.

“Oh yeah?” _A yellow one?_

“Mmm, plus strawberry season is the summer, and summer meant no school. Used to go on excursions with my dad, climbing trees, camping—once we’d left the city, he finally had more time for stuff like that. At least, before he got sick. Surprise, surprise: not much big news happening in Moonbright,” she laughed softly. Tora let himself be led by her, watching her face from the corner of his eye as something like sadness played across her expression. A minute passed before she spoke again. “Writing took a backseat for him, I think,” she said, rubbing her thumb against his hand, “lost the joy of it,” she shrugged slightly. “Or maybe it was being a single parent all of a sudden. He’d even stopped journaling, and then it wasn’t long after that…” she trailed off, staring intently at the strawberry plant before forcing a smile. “Sorry,” she shook her head, turning from him, “this is supposed to be a date,” she said with false cheer.

_No_ , no way was she burying her feelings or apologizing for them cause of him. Tora stopped walking, putting the plant down on the shelf to his left as he pulled Poppy slowly backwards toward him until she’d fallen against his chest, her fists balling in the fabric at his torso as he circled her with his arms, tightening his hold on her. He bent around her, resting his cheek against the top of her head, as he slowly rubbed one of his palms up and down her back. A moment later, he felt her exhale like a rush against him as she relaxed in his arms, breathing deeply against the firm press of his hands. It wasn’t skin-to-skin, but he hoped it still worked the way it had when she’d held him the other night.

Some time passed, Tora wasn’t sure how long, but the fan in the corner of the room had clicked to a different setting so that the hum of the bees was more noticeable against the walls of the tent, the white plastic material illuminated by the setting sun, a warm glow falling softly over the gentle heat of the room. “Feels nice,” she said finally, her voice muffled against his shirt.

He smiled, “had a good teacher.”

She laughed against him, her back shaking under his palms and her head bobbing against his cheek. He turned his head, pressing a kiss to the place at the top of her head where her braids came together in a pale line down her scalp. Tora waited until she’d pulled herself away from him to reach out and grab the strawberry plant again.

Poppy looked up at him. He felt his eyebrows pull together slightly—her eyes looked glassy, wider with un-spilled tears, though she hadn’t cried. “Thanks,” she smiled softly.

He reached his free hand out to thumb her chin gently, “anytime, Bob.”

She huffed, but he was encouraged by the way her smile grew more confident as the sadness seemed to pass back through her. He knew that feeling—the way it never really left, always buried in the lungs, ready to rear its head, claw its way up the throat if given a moment of opportunity, of vulnerability. Hell, she’d already glimpsed his. He didn’t know how to say it with words, but he hoped Poppy knew she wasn’t alone. Would never be alone as long as she wanted him around.

In the new quiet of the room, he could hear her stomach grumble and he couldn’t hold back his laugh. “Guess I should get my hamster some food, huh?” 

She blushed, “ _your_ hamster, huh?” Tora’s eyes went wide, _fuck_. He’d really said that out loud? _Ya stupid fuck_ , he groaned internally. He was always too fuckin’ comfortable around her, stupid shit he’d normally catch just slipped through his teeth. She laughed at the look on his face, “teasing, Tor,” she said, reaching for his hand as she led him back out of the greenhouse. Tora’s heart thumped against his ribs—she hadn’t minded? She’d acted like it was nothing for him to call her _his_. His hamster. His Bobby. Fuck, was she serious? He needed to make sure he hadn’t crossed a fuckin’ line.

“Poppy, I—”

She cut him off as they approached the register. “Oh, Tora, look—succulents!” She pulled him to the display of spikey plants where he’d picked out the one with the goofy face a couple days ago. What’d she called them? Succulent? Didn’t that mean…juicy? He swallowed, glancing down at her figure as she bent down suddenly to grab one off the display, quickly looking away and unintentionally making eye contact with the clerk who smirked at him. Tora felt his face immediately heat, his ears on fire—holy shit, what the fuck kind of date was this? It’d gone from hot as hell to depressing as shit to just fuckin’ embarrassing in the short time since he’d picked her up from work. Poppy turned around quickly, nearly bumping into him as she smiled wide before whirling toward the counter. He peered around her, carefully avoiding the clerk’s gaze, as Poppy gently took the strawberry plant from his arms—she’d grabbed one of the juicy plants in a white pot that was shaped like a dinosaur. He bit his tongue around a snort and, at the sound, Poppy glanced back at him with a smirk. Tora shook his head as he reached for his wallet. Goddamn, this woman was somethin’ else. His hamster, fuck.

“Oh, I’m so glad you’re giving one of these guys a home,” the woman said as she tapped on the register. “Now that they’re going out of season, people aren’t really looking to buy them.”

Tora heard Poppy gasp softly, “oh, that’s terrible. Well,” she turned to look up at Tora, “one more?” He smiled and nodded at her before striding back toward the greenhouse. _Pfft, what a cute fuckin’ hamster_ , he thought. Tryin’ to save all the damn plants, give ‘em a home.

As he made his way back to the register, he overheard the woman talking to Bobby, “did you like the poppies your boyfriend got you?” He paused near the archway, pretending to look at the buckets of flowers on the misting shelves—he could feel Poppy’s eyes on him as he carefully avoided looking in her direction.

“I did, he knows they’re one of my favorites,” he could hear the smile, warm on her voice, and he turned further away from her so that she wouldn’t be able to see the grin that’d split across his face. When he felt like he’d schooled his expression enough, he turned back to the counter, holding out the plant for her to inspect.

“This one okay, sweetheart?”

“Mhmm,” she hummed, barely even looking at it as she collected the other two plants from the counter. “This one’s for you,” she said, holding out the dinosaur after Tora had paid. He held the door open for her, glancing down at the fat, little spikey plant in her hand as she walked past him, headed toward the car.

“Don’t know the first thing about takin’ care of plants, Bobby. Might kill it,” he added with a frown.

“Oh no,” she said as she made her way to the trunk, waiting for Tora to open it. He racked his brain trying to picture the inside of the compartment. He couldn’t be sure if he’d left anything out that she shouldn’t see, so he decided to play it safe, opening the door to the backseat instead and placing the strawberries carefully on the floor so that they wouldn’t fall over. “They’re impossible to kill. Like, you’d have to really try,” she said, shaking her head.

He tightened his jaw at that, his stomach clenching painfully at the thought that he’d killed plenty without even needing to try. None of ‘em fuckin’ plants, either. And if she knew that, there was no way in hell she’d let an old woman at a flower shop mistake him for her boyfriend.

“Hey,” she said, trailing her fingers down his arm after she’d placed the dinosaur on the floor beside the other plants. “I’m famished, so we either need to stop at a gas station so I can get some Twizzlers or…” she trailed off, smirking at the look on his face as he rolled his eyes and threw his head back.

“Sweet fuck, Bobby. Really don’t understand how you eat that shit,” he said as she walked around to her side of the car, quickly getting in.

“Most important food gr—”

“Nah,” he cut her off, quickly backing up onto the road behind them. “Tell ya what, there’s this place I’ve been meanin’ to stop by. We can order there and do takeout,” he offered. “Unless, of course, ya so ravenous that ya need to eat right then and there,” he laughed as she huffed and pushed on his bicep. A second later, Tora saw an opportunity to rile her and took it. “Ya like sausage, sweetheart?”

He watched as she blushed redder than the fuckin’ strawberries, her mouth falling open on an inhale in a perfect O as she smacked his arm, “Tora!”

“Shit, Bobby,” he laughed, ducking away from her and trying not to swerve, “it’s a real fuckin’ question—s’a sausage joint, mom-and-pop type shop. Real cutesy,” he smirked at her. “Ya’ll like it.” She was breathing hard, her chest heaving against the V of her shirt beneath the jacket. “No need to get all worked up, Bobby,” he murmured, “we got plenty of time for that later.” He glanced over at her and deepened his smirk when he saw how wide her eyes were. Goddamn, she just made it too fuckin’ easy.

He looked back at the road, making the last turn toward Fred and Fran’s on the outer edge of the Ares Street district—no way was he taking her any further into the heart of clan territory, but Tora felt confident it was a safe bet that they wouldn’t be seen here, especially this time on a Monday. And as far as Tora was aware, he was one of the only people who knew of the place. Well, he thought with an eyeroll, besides the women he sent here when they bothered him for his fuckin’ number. He listened to Poppy breathe beside him. “I thought you’d changed your mind,” she said a moment later. Tora frowned, glancing over at her—she was looking out the window, hands in her lap, turning her phone over and over. “You know,” she looked over at him nonchalantly, catching his eye for a moment before he had to glance back at the road, “because you never answered my text.”

Tora inclined his head, frowning as he thought back to their text exchange, “nah, sweetheart. Ya got it wrong—ya never texted _me_ back.” He pulled up outside the sausage shop, lifting his hips slightly to fish out his phone from his back pocket and pulling up the chain before he showed it to her.

She laughed, “ah, out of order,” she said, turning from him in her seat to look out her window. “Are we here?” She peered up at the shop as Tora frowned, looking back at the messages.

@Bobby: You saw my outfit this morning—is it too formal for tonight?

@Tora: ya perfect sweetheart

@Bobby: Well, you might have to carry me if it involves a lot of walking. These heels were a mistake.

@Tora: good thing ya such a tiny hamster

@Tora: easy to carry around

@Bobby: 🙄 Not all of us can be 6 feet tall

@Tora: ya forgot some inches bobby

@Bobby: Remind me, how many inches?

@Tora: 3

@Bobby: Huh, weird.

@Tora: ?

@Bobby: [image]

@Bobby: Pudge says hi!

@Bobby: Thought it was bigger.

“So, you weren’t kidding,” she turned to him, “an actual sausage shop, huh.” She made to open her door, but Tora put his hand on the bare skin of her thigh just below the hem of her skirt, looking up at her through his lashes as he leaned an elbow on the console, half-turned toward her.

“First of all, Bobby,” he murmured, “ya know I don’t lie to ya.” He watched a small smile sneak across her face as she looked away from him and down at her hands. “And second of all, I still don’t know what ya talkin’ about. Why in the everlovin’ fuck,” he paused, watching her smile grow wider as she tried valiantly to repress it, “would ya think I wouldn’t want to pick up where we left off last night?” He licked his bottom lip as he inhaled through his nose, waiting for her to speak. Her face had flushed again at his words and her hands had stilled as she breathed heavily. He ducked his head closer to her, murmuring low, “sweetheart.” At the nickname, he watched as goosebumps bloomed across her chest. Tora smirked, continuing, practically croaking as he lowered his voice, “I can be incredibly patient.” 

She seemed to recognize the words he’d spoken to her the last time she’d worn this outfit and turned suddenly to meet his eyes, startling slightly at how close his face was to hers. She swallowed, eyes flicking between his heated gaze and parted lips. “I was worried it was too forward,” she said finally, looking him in the eye.

“Bobby,” he murmured, “ya sent me a picture of a bird.” He raised his eyebrows, genuinely very confused. What the hell was she talkin’ about?

She smirked, “like I said, out of order.” He watched as she unlocked her phone, pulling up her chain with him and showing him the messages, which, he noted with a swallow, were indeed in a very different fuckin’ order than the ones he had.

@Poppylan: 🙄 Not all of us can be 6 feet tall

@Tora: ya forgot some inches bobby

@Poppylan: Remind me, how many inches?

@Tora: 3

@Poppylan: Huh, weird.

@Poppylan: Thought it was bigger.

He glanced up at her, narrowing his eyes at her small smirk and nearly hissing at the way his cock had immediately responded to the heat in her gaze, desire coiling low in his abdomen. He licked his lips again, mirroring her tongue’s movement along the seam of her mouth. “Definitely bigger than three,” he rasped.

“Hmm,” she hummed, “I’m pretty evidence-based in my research,” she held his gaze, speaking slowly. As if he wasn’t hanging off her every word, _fuck_ , she knew exactly what the fuck she was doin’ to him. Tora moved the hand on her thigh so that his fingers slipped just beneath the hem of her skirt where it pressed against her skin, his thumb stroking the dip of soft tissue along her quad. “Have to see it to believe it,” she smiled slow as she leaned toward him, her neck skimming the side of his face as she reached to grab the keys from the ignition. Suddenly she was leaning lower and Tora’s lungs nearly collapsed as his heart jumped up to his throat. He repressed a strangled noise that had almost escaped from the back of his mouth as one of her braids slipped from behind her shoulders and thumped against his arm. She’d bent not toward the poorly concealed tent in his jeans like he’d thought but instead to reach her hand toward the pack of cigarettes in the recess of the console near the ignition. She scooped it up, sitting back up in her seat as she flipped the lid. Tora inhaled sharply, his eyes flicking between her face and her fingers as she ran them along the filters of the three that were left. He leaned back away from her, letting his head fall back against the seat as he closed his eyes. _Fuck_ , he’d known how she felt—she’d made it real fuckin’ clear the last time she’d found a pack on him. Why hadn’t he thought to toss ‘em in the glove box. Or ditch ‘em entirely. He’d had a pretty fuckin’ stressful day from the time he’d left her in the stairwell to the time she’d run to him from the elevator but, he realized with a swallow, seventeen in a handful of hours was a lot, even for him. At least she didn’t know how _quickly_ he’d smoked through the pack she was holding. For all she knew it was a couple days old.  
  
Tora opened his eyes and looked over at Poppy who was watching his face. He sighed, unable to hold her gaze. “Poppylan, I’m tryin’,” he said finally, still not able to look back her. He could see her watching him from the corner of his eye, though, her expression unreadable. “Know it probably seems easy enough to just…stop,” he said, swallowing again, “but they’ve just been a part of my life, my fuckin’ routine for so goddamn long…” he trailed off, hoping she’d say something. He’d stopped short of the words he’d overheard Quincey use to describe the habit to the cleaning crew whenever new employees were shocked at the nicotine build-up over just one week, _coping mechanism_. A couple moments passed, and Tora looked out the windshield, running his eyes up and down the block he’d grown so familiar with as a kid. He vaguely wondered if the grill shed Fred kept in back still had the Ares Street Kingz tag. He shook his head to himself slightly, why the fuck had they felt the need to put their names on fuckin’ everything? “I know it’s fuckin’ weak, but I don’t give up so easy,” he said, finally pulling his gaze from beyond the car and turning to meet her eyes. “I’m gonna keep tryin’, Poppy,” he said.

She held his gaze and, though her thoughts normally played across her face plain as day, he couldn’t tell what she was thinking as she stared at him, fingers absently opening and closing the lid. “My Granny used to smoke,” she said finally, “so I _know_ it’s not an easy thing. To quit.” She took a breath. “And it definitely doesn’t make you weak,” she added, “because that would mean that Granny’s weak.” She narrowed her eyes as she continued, and Tora wondered how much of this grandmother was reflected in the face of the woman he couldn’t tear his eyes away from, “and she’s one of the strongest people I know.” A smile spread slowly across her face as she flipped her braid back over her shoulder, leaning over to squeeze his bicep before pressing a finger to the left side of his chest, “and so are you.” She let her finger stay against him before pressing forward slightly until her hand opened up, blooming against his chest, her palm resting over his heart. So fuckin’ warm. “Sometimes even the strongest people need a little help. You know, you’re not alone.” His lips parted around a soft exhale. What’d he do to deserve this woman?

He opened his mouth to say something, anything, but the words didn’t even make it up his throat before they’d withered in his chest. How the hell was he supposed to respond to that? Tora closed his mouth as Poppy leaned back against her seat, reaching for the door handle, the cigarettes, keys, and her phone still grasped in her hands as she climbed from the car. Tora sat for a moment before he followed, moving to the back door of the car where he bent to the floor, cradling the three plants in his palms as he pushed the door shut with his foot. Poppy watched from the sidewalk, her bottom lip between her teeth in a smile. He raised his eyebrows at her as he transferred the strawberry plants to the crook of his arm so he could open the door to Fred’s for her, “what’s that look for?”

“You remembered,” she said, taking the dinosaur from his hands as she walked through the open doorway.

“ _Pfft_ , course I did, sweetheart.” He thought back to their first date, the way she’d stopped everything to bring him up to her apartment, worried the plants would dry out in his car. Their proximity in her kitchen, her hand on his ribs as he’d leaned toward her, barely any distance between their torsos, her yellow dress. Her fingers on the plants, _I tell them I care about them_ , running up along his arm, tender, _like this_. Tora didn’t think he’d ever forget that night, every detail strung up around his lungs.

“Why don’t ya grab us a table, Bobby,” he said, nodding his head toward a booth by the corner, tucked up against one of the stained front windows. “Ya wanna eat here or should I get our shit to go?” he asked, setting the strawberry plants on the counter and leaning an elbow against the surface so that he faced her.

“Mmm,” she thought, her eyes scanning over the old, framed photographs that Fred kept on the wooden paneling of the tiny room. “Why don’t you get it to go, that way we can go with the flow,” she said with a smile, reaching out and taking the strawberry plants from beside Tora.   
  
“The flow, huh?” he smirked. “Alright, Bobby. Takeout it is.” He watched as she turned to walk to the table, carrying the plants carefully in her hands, before he moved to walk behind the counter, lifting the panel that folded down and stepping back behind the register to go find Fred. The old man had problems hearing customers come into the shop and, more often than not, Tora’d found himself needing to walk into the back in order to get his attention. Kinda like Alice, but definitely less of an asshole.

“Oi, Fred,” he called as he walked into the kitchen, seeing the man sitting at a table with a tiny TV, watching a game of poker. Tora rolled his eyes, striding across the small room to sit beside the man. “The hell ya watchin’,” he asked, extending his legs in front of him and leaning back in the wooden chair as Fred startled.

“Back already?”

Tora frowned. The man was slowly losin’ it, had recently begun talking to Tora like he was still a kid workin’ in back. Tora raised his voice slightly, reaching to turn the knob of the TV’s volume down. “I said the hell ya watchin’, Fred,” Tora nodded toward the game— “ya better not be draggin’ Alice back into that shit.”

Fred shook his head animatedly as he waved both hands in front of him toward the floor, “bah, you kids. Nothin’ to worry ‘bout, nothin’ to worry ‘bout,” he said, standing up from the chair and turning the knob back up as he pulled the white hat from the table onto his head. “Ya want the usual, Goliath?”

Tora sighed, _shit_. Seemed to be getting worse, no wonder Alice had been pushin’ him to visit. Tora hadn’t seen his brother in a while, but he was sure as shit they didn’t look anything alike as adults. Except for the eyes, but still. For sure meant that Fred was confusing them with their teenage selves. “Yeah, Fred. The usual,” he said, standing up. No use correcting him, not like he’d be able to hear him over the damn game anyway.

“Mmm,” Fred said suddenly, turning from the range he’d been brushing down, “got something for ya. Need ya to take it to Alice for me,” he said, pointing at a paper grocery bag on the floor beside the table. Tora rolled his eyes— _every damn time_ , he thought. He didn’t understand why they didn’t just visit each other more often instead of relying on Tora to shuttle their under-the-table bullshit between them. Clearly poker nights just once a week weren’t enough. “There’s something in there for ya, too,” he winked like it was their little secret, turning back to the range, “make sure to grab it before ya give the rest to Alice.” Tora sighed, fishing out his wallet. Fred liked to sneak him cash like he had when they were kids, back when he’d needed it. But he didn’t need it now. Still, it was no use arguing over, the man had always been a fuckin’ stubborn son of a bitch in his resolve to help him and Goliath—Tora pulled out a couple large bills and put them down on the table in front of the TV but, after glancing at the screen where the game was still going, quickly scooped them back up along with the bag. No need to tempt fuckin’ fate. He’d leave the cash in the register instead.

“Oi, Fred—want those to go,” he called over his shoulder, waiting until the man stuck a thumb in the air before turning back out of the kitchen and to the register. He thumbed open the drawer, lifting the inner divider, and slipped the bills underneath. Fred’d find them later, hopefully when he didn’t have poker at the front of his mind.

Tora lifted the counter again, moving back over toward the table and slumping down in the booth seat across from Poppy. He folded the top of the paper bag and placed it on the table beside the plants. She frowned at him and he raised his eyebrows, “what’d I do?”

“What, you worried you’ll catch cooties if you sit next to me?” she asked, cocking an eyebrow at him, a smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth.

_Cooties, pfft, pfft_. “What’re ya, twelve?” he asked, standing up to round the edge of the table, “budge up,” he said, scooting into her. The seat was tiny, he remembered it fit him and the other three well when they were kids, but now his body took up most of the seat, leaving just enough room for Poppy. Good thing she was tiny, he thought with a smirk. Tora draped an arm across the back of the seat as she leaned forward, her forearms resting on the worn wooden surface of the table full of knicks and etched graffiti from years past. He knew if he were to look under the table, there’d be clumps of old gum around the edges, had learned to keep his hands above the surfaces of Fred’s joint long ago. He watched as she flipped the lid on the pack of cigarettes open and closed, her shoulders hunching slightly as she prepared to say something. Tora waited, bringing a hand to rub his lips before she finally spoke.

“So, when’d you start smoking?”

He felt his eyebrows rise as he leaned his head back slightly, he wasn’t sure what he’d been expecting her to say, but definitely not _that_. Why’d it matter? She turned to look over her shoulder at him and he swallowed at the feel of her thigh as it rubbed against his. He glanced down at their legs, the soft press of her against him, the strip of bare skin above her knee he could see where the hem of her skirt ended, before looking back up to meet her eyes. “Dunno if I can explain it, Bobby,” he sighed truthfully.

“Can you try?” she tilted her head, eyes roaming his face.

He sucked his lip between his teeth, thinking as he watched her eyes move before she settled back on his gaze. “Helps with the stress,” he said finally. “S’like a…” he shook his head slightly, searching for the words, “like a reward almost. No matter what shit might be goin’ down,” he continued slowly, carefully, “I can count on ‘em to help, make everythin’ just…” he sighed deeply. “Easier to manage.”

“Like skin-to-skin?” she asked, referencing the way she’d held him the other night.

He smirked lightly, “yeah, Bobby. Like ya para-simpin’.”

“Parasympathetic.”

He huffed a laugh before worrying his bottom lip between his teeth as he reached out and tucked a piece of hair behind her ear, letting his thumb brush her cheek faintly before returning his arm to the seatback behind her. That wasn’t all, ran deeper than just calming his stress response. He ran his eyes across her face as she waited patiently, thinking about how to vocalize what the smokes did for him. “Takes me four and a half minutes to smoke through one, that’s four and a half minutes I can count on,” he said carefully, nodding slowly. “Four and half minutes I know at least _one_ thing that’s gonna happen exactly as it should. Every time.” He looked over at the strawberry plants on the table in front of her hands, which she’d stilled on the near-empty pack. “Same every goddamn time—all these years, the same.” Tora reached out, gently pulling the pack from her hands. He flipped open the lid, removing one of the cigarettes and tapping the end on the table until the tobacco spilled from the paper. He put the wrapping aside, pinching a bit of the tobacco between his index finger and thumb, rubbing them together as the shavings fell back to the table. “Honestly, Bobby,” he swallowed, keeping his eyes carefully on his fingers, “never really thought about it before. Ya the first person to give a shit. And,” he inhaled deeply before blowing it out in a rush, “I dunno why, sweetheart.” Finally, he flicked his eyes back to her face.

She was staring at him with wide eyes, her mouth a straight line as she took in what he’d said. Finally, she tilted her head, the words falling slowly from her mouth and settling in the space between them, “I think you do.”

He swallowed again, his fingers stilling above the pile of tobacco, unable to break away from her gaze. At that moment, Fred came bustling out of the back, whistling tunelessly, a plastic bag in hand swinging with the weight of the takeout boxes that he placed down on the counter, glancing around before heading back toward the kitchen with a shrug—he apparently hadn’t seen them in the corner and Tora had been too focused on Poppy to move, afraid to even breathe at what he thought she might be saying. But she couldn’t be saying that, could she? _I tell them I care about them_ , she’d said, her fingers on his arm, _like this_. Her bare chest against his back as she’d held him, palms stroking his chest. Her arms around him, fingers firm on his pecs. Her cheek rolling against his spine, her warm breath like a kiss against his damp skin. He clenched his jaw, catching the soft flesh of his cheek between his teeth.

Poppy looked over at the counter past Tora, placing a hand on his knee, her other pointing to the food, drawing him from the thoughts at war in his head. “So, what do you think, eat here or my place?” Tora cleared his throat, sliding out of the booth as he ran a hand over the top of his head, his fingers hitting the strawberry, “up to ya, sweetheart. I’m down for anythin’,” he schooled his face into a smirk as he grabbed the bag off the counter and turned back toward her.

“Mmm,” she hummed, “anything?”

He narrowed his eyes, waiting for whatever she was scheming. When she just looked at him innocently, he huffed a sigh, the bag of takeout hanging from his fingers as his other hand leaned back against the counter, “ya gonna spit it out, Bobby?” He cocked an eyebrow, running his tongue along the fresh tear inside his mouth.

She slid to the end of the booth until she was sitting on the edge, facing out from the table and toward him. She leaned backwards quickly, scooping the empty cigarette and its contents into the cardboard container before turning back to face him, holding the pack in her hand. “You’re down for anything,” she asked, waiting until he nodded once, suspicious. “So, then I can throw these out.”

He eyed her from across the room, noting the challenge in her gaze, the way the question had come out as a statement of fact. Like it was already decided, she’d already made up her mind and he was gonna listen. Fuckin’ feisty hamster. “What happens next time I get the urge, Bobby,” he said softly, watching as her breathing hitched slightly. He took a step away from the counter, holding her gaze as he ran his tongue over his bottom lip. No way was he givin’ in that easy—she wanted a challenge as much as he did, could tell by the look in her eyes.

She tilted her head up as he approached her slowly until he was standing at her feet, looking down at where she still sat in the booth, her knees nearly touching his legs. “Then I guess you’ll need to exercise restraint,” she said, rising slowly until she was on her feet, her body skimming his on her way up. Tora’s lips parted as he smirked, bringing his free hand up to cup the side of her neck, his thumb resting along the dip where her jaw met her throat. He gently angled her head back further until her neck was fully extended, watching as a shiver ran up her spine. He bent his head closer to her, running his thumb lightly down the thin skin at the center of her throat as she swallowed against his hand.

“That’s half the fun, Bobby,” he murmured low, smirking wider as she inhaled around a soft gasp. Tora let his hand drift up her neck until his fingers cupped the base of her skull, his thumb rubbing along her jawbone. “You look…hungry, sweetheart,” he said softly. He felt her hum low against his palm as she slowly, so fuckin’ slowly, pulled her bottom lip between her teeth, a smirk playing at her lips as she watched his nostrils flare. 

He let his hand fall from her face, shoving a hand in his pocket as he hastily adjusted himself before reaching around her to tuck the grocery bag under his arm and scoop up the plants. “Let’s bounce, Bobby,” he rasped, lust heavy on his tongue as he watched her lean back to grab her phone and his keys off the table, eyeing her ass as he ushered her toward the door. Fuck, he needed her. Bad. Had half a mind to drop everything and whisk her back to his apartment—it was closer. Fuck the food, didn’t need food, he had Bobby. He’d make a fuckin’ meal of her, that ass, fuck. She stopped suddenly and Tora bit his tongue around a groan as his hips bumped against the swell of her ass. She turned to look over her shoulder at him, a smirk in her eyes as she pushed the pack of cigarettes into the trash can beside the door.

His lips parted in surprise, holy shit, the _balls_ on this one. “Ya like playin’ with fire, huh, Bobby.”

“Funny enough,” she said, pushing through the door and holding it open for him as he quickly strode to the car, nodding at the back door so she’d unlock it, “I do.”

He barked a laugh, fuck. She gave as good as she got. He quickly deposited the plants on the floor, tossing Fred’s bag and the takeout down beside them before he turned to take the keys from her fingers, letting his hand brush hers as he asked, “ya not worried, Bobby? Might get burned.”

When he met her eyes, the smirk slipped from his face. She shook her head slightly, moving her hand to his wrist and holding his gaze, “I don’t think I will.” _How the fuck did she do that?_ he wondered as she reached past him to close the door. The heat was still evident in her eyes, but she’d dropped the playfulness, cut straight to his core, beneath the fog of desire. To tell him she trusted him. Trusted him not to hurt her. Sweet fuck.

“Poppylan,” he said as she brought the hand not wrapped around his wrist up to his neck, pulling against him gently until he relented, her lips warm on his as she kissed him. Her hand slipped from his wrist until her fingers tangled with his, melting against him as he brought his other hand to the small of her back.

When she broke away from him a moment later, she breathed against his cheek, “you’re a good guy, Tora,” placing her lips against his skin in a chaste kiss. _A good egg_. In the time it took him to shut his eyes briefly and reopen them, she’d released his neck, his hand, was reaching around him again to pull open the handle to the passenger side. He stepped aside, gripping the top of the door as she swung it open and watching as she sat backwards into the seat, swinging her legs in once more. She watched him through the window as he shut the door, walking around the hood as he ran a hand over his mouth. He had no idea what was gonna happen once they got back to her place. A moment ago, he’d been certain there’d finally be a use for the fuckin’ condoms in his go-bag, but shit—he climbed into the car, plunging the keys into the ignition—he had no idea anymore. He snuck a glance over at her right before he peeled away from the curb. She was looking at the recess of the center console where the cigarettes had been—now it only held his lighters and, _oh right._

“S’the one ya dropped at Chevy’s,” he nodded toward the ointment he’d forgotten to give her.

She smiled, glancing up at him, “I got a new one.” Then, “maybe you can add it to your little survival kit,” she laughed softly.

_T_ _ch_ , he rolled his eyes.

“Besides,” she said, slipping her shoulder out of the jacket so she could peer at the tattoo in the reflection in the window, “I only apply it every so often now. Skin’s almost back to normal,” she said, tilting her head to peer at it.

He nodded, thinking about how short a time he’d known her. Fuck, it really hadn’t been long at all—a little over a week. How’d this tiny hamster of a woman manage to so completely upend his concept of what was possible for him. Until last Friday, he’d always accepted the reality that he was meant to be alone, sure that the feelings Quincey’d always written about were just lust pretending to be love. What the fuck even _was_ love. But shit, it was like Bobby had unlocked a whole new set of emotions he hadn’t ever believed really existed. Did she feel the same way? It seemed very much like that was a possibility, but what the hell did he know? 

“You still haven’t told me what made you choose your tattoos,” she said, pulling her jacket back up and turning to look at him. Tora glanced down at the ring on his finger before looking over at her.

  
“Ya know,” he said as he took a turn, approaching her building. “Tattoos don’t have to mean anything. Sometimes they just make ya look badass,” he said, schooling his face into a smirk. She narrowed her eyes at him, though. Clearly she wasn’t fuckin’ buyin’ it. _Shit_ , he cleared his throat as he turned down her street.

“Call me judgy all you want,” she said, “but I have a feeling you didn’t get yours just to _look badass_ ,” she lowered her voice in an exaggerated imitation of his as he laughed.

“Well, shit, Bob,” he said as they pulled up to the gate. “Tell ya what, I’ll tell ya ‘bout _one_ of ‘em,” he held up a finger, emphasizing _one_ as he rolled down the window to punch in the code. “Ya get to choose which one,” he smirked at the scowl on her face, reaching over to pinch her cheek. “Fuck, Bobby. Too fuckin’ cute.” He laughed as she pulled her face from his grip, rubbing her cheek.

“I’ll forgive you for that _if_ ,” she held up her own finger at him, “if you tell me about two of them.”

He let his mouth fall open on an eye roll as the gate finished sliding open. He quickly schooled his face into a neutral expression as they passed the booth where Ronzo was watching them. Tora nodded at him once before turning into the lot around her side of the building.

“Oh wait,” she said, he could practically see the light bulb go off in her head, like fuckin’ Quince and his epiphanies. “I take it back, I’ll forgive you for pinching me if you tell me what Gyu’s doing here.”

_Well, fuck_. Tora kept his expression neutral, determined not to give her an inch as he killed the engine. He unbuckled, turning to face her as she did the same, her chin inclined toward him in a silent challenge. “See, that’s where ya wrong, Bobby,” he said, allowing a smirk as she narrowed her eyes in confusion. “Ya assumin’ I _want_ ya to forgive me,” he said lowly, watching as a blush crept its way up her neck at the heat in his voice. “But I’d rather ya teach me a lesson.” Her eyes widened immediately, the blush blooming up onto her face where it deepened across her cheeks. He smirked in earnest, “whaddaya say, Bobby?”

He watched as she swallowed, looked down at his hand that rested on the center console between them, seeming to steel herself as she made a decision. Poppy looked back up at him through her lashes, her eyes heated, lids heavy, and Tora practically groaned at her answer, “these shoes…are killing me.” He blindly reached for the door handle behind him, quickly pulling himself from the car as he slammed the door, jogging around the back to open the trunk. Fuck, he needed to be fast before she changed her mind. His heart was racing, thumping loudly in his ears, against his ribs, as he grabbed the go-bag, quickly unzipping it and slinging it across his chest—the condoms were still wedged in the mesh pocket, _thank fuck_. Tora ran around to the passenger side of the car, slamming the trunk as he pulled open the back door, quickly shoving the takeout into the bag he held open against his hip. As he pulled the plants from the floor and put them on the roof of the car, he heard Gyu call from behind him, “hey, Big Bro! Did you bring that chair?”

Moving as quickly as possible, Tora gently nestled the plants beside each other out the open top of the bag, shooting a murderous glare toward the booth where Gyu had stepped out and then quickly back in, sliding the door shut behind him and hunching over the desk in a pathetic attempt to hide. Fuckin’ figured—Ronzo could really have the worst fuckin’ timing. Fuckin’ cockblock, worse than Alice. As Tora turned back toward the car to slam the back door, he caught Poppy’s eye through the window where she watching him with a smirk. Tora could feel his heart at his throat as he finally— _sweet fuck, finally_ —wrapped a hand around the handle to pull it open. He inhaled sharply when the door didn’t budge, his eyes jumping to hers as she laughed behind her hand. She’d really fuckin’ locked him out again. _Ooooooh, ya gonna pay for that, Bobby_.

He quickly dug into his pocket, unlocking the car and yanking open the door, breathing heavy as he bent down, wasting no fuckin’ time at all in scooping her into his arms, kicking the door closed with his foot as he turned to stride toward the stairs to her building. He barely registered that Poppy was fuckin’ laughing— _laughing, fuckin’ sadistic hamster_. He spared a moment to imagine what they must look like as he carried her up the steps, shifting her in his arms so that she was practically over his shoulder, his hands firm around her waist, the back of her thigh—couldn’t help but grin like a fuckin’ idiot. Her laughs—evidence of her clear full-throated fuckin’ _joy_ at bein’ with him, bein’ carried by him—filling his senses until he thought he might drown, would love nothin’ more than to drown in this moment. He loved her, _holy sweet everlovin’ fuck_ , he _loved_ this woman. Tora tripped slightly at the realization as he made it up to her door, steadying himself with his shoulder against the doorjamb. “Bobby,” he rasped, “where ya keys, sweetheart?”

She was still laughing, extending one of her arms to pat his lower back so that he’d turn. He heard her keys jingling against the door as she unlocked it, he couldn’t stop grinnin’, holy shit, he loved her. His fuckin’ hamster, this woman who’d changed everything. He heard the lock click open, his eyes sweeping over the parking lot one last time, briefly spotting Gyu who was staring open-mouthed up at them, before she was tugging his shirt from where it was tucked into the back of his pants, encouraging him to step backwards into the apartment.

As soon as he was over the threshold, Tora deadbolted the door behind them, quickly toeing off his shoes and striding across the room to the kitchen where he carefully lifted the strawberry plants from the bag, putting them on the counter beside her sink as Poppy grabbed the dinosaur pot, mirroring his movements. He turned his head, kissing her side as he rubbed his hand along the back of her thigh. He listened to her moan which suddenly broke off into a gasp. “Tora,” her voice sounded strangled, higher than usual—fuck, something was very, very wrong. He froze, breathing heavy against her shirt, his fingers tight around her waist, her leg. “Is it loaded?”

_The fuck?_ Tora’s brows drew together in confusion, “What?”

“The gun,” she said, “is it loaded.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, Tora… (I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry 😬😬😬)
> 
> Thank you thank you thank you for reading this story and for your sweet comments—they keep me going! 
> 
> Ch. 21: has Tora shot himself in the foot or can he save this date?


	21. Please

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tora hasn’t been completely open with Poppy, but he might have a chance to fix that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is way shorter than usual, cause I’ve got a real busy work week this week/weekend, and I wasn’t sure when I’d be able to finish the rest of the chapter, so I split it into two parts. Needed to ease that cliffhanger from yesterday heehee
> 
> As always, characters belong to the real MVP Lilydusk, brilliant creator of Midnight Poppy Land. Support her on Patreon! https://www.patreon.com/lilydusk

**Chapter 21**

“Tora,” her voice sounded strangled, higher than usual—fuck, something was very, very wrong. He froze, breathing heavy against her shirt, his fingers tight around her waist, her leg. “Is it loaded?”

 _The fuck?_ Tora’s brows drew together in confusion, “What?”

“The gun,” she said, “is it loaded.”

Tora felt his face crumple. _No, no, no, no, no_. His chest seized as his mouth ran dry. _No, fuck. Please, fuck no. Ya goddamned stupid motherfuckin’ bastard._

“Tora?”

He tried to swallow. Couldn’t. There was no avoiding this, whatever the fuck was about to happen. He’d brought a fuckin’ gun into her apartment, without permission. Brought danger right into her home—both the gun and his own fuckin’ body. _Fuck_. He blinked once when he realized he’d been staring at his reflection in the mirror of her bedroom from across the living room. Schooling his face into a mask, he forced his fingers to unlock, release her slowly until she was sliding down his torso. Couldn’t meet her fuckin’ eyes, so wide.

“Tora,” she said again, not a question this time. Shit, black dots peppered the room for a moment as he gritted his teeth against the wave of nausea that threatened to crash down his spine—like iced water leaking slow down his back. Just as suddenly as his world had opened, bloomed at her touch, it’d shriveled closed again. His fuckin’ gun. Why in the hell had he ever taken one into her apartment, why in the fuck had he ever allowed himself to set foot in this perfect woman’s life? _Bobby_. He finally looked at her face, swallowing thickly as he met her wide eyes, taking in the shock, the touch of fear, like she’d just woken up, just realized she really didn’t know him at all. This strange man, three times her size with the tattoos. The gun in his bag.

“No, it’s not,” he finally said. He at least owed her an answer—that pathetic gesture—before he left. An apology, too, though the words were like lumps in his throat. “Poppylan,” he bit out her name, _fuck_. Was he on a clock now? A countdown of how many more times he’d ever get the chance to speak her name? And here he’d let himself think, let himself dream, that they had forever. That was never fuckin’ possible, he realized like a boulder to his pelvis. He took a deep breath, steeling himself to walk away from her, to pull the takeout from his bag, drop it on her counter. Leave. He’d have to see Ronzo. Fuck. Wasn’t the kid’s fault, but fuck if it wasn’t gonna feel like salt in the wound. Road salt. “I’m sorry,” he said finally, he wanted so badly to touch her, run a hand against her cheek one more time. This woman he loved. His chest nearly collapsed under the weight of the realization he’d had just moments ago. Her laugh still ringing in his ears, fuck, he’d never get to hear that again. Tora closed his eyes briefly against the familiar sting, felt his hands shaking. He could almost laugh, really. Hadn’t even needed Vincent to take this bit of happiness away from him. Done it all himself.

He needed a smoke, a hundred of ‘em. All at once. Put him in the fuckin’ ground. Now he got it, he realized through the haze—only barely registering Poppy as she spoke to him—he understood what Quince was on about with the Romeo and Juliet shit, the asteroid. _Of course_ there had to be a fuckin’ asteroid, a motherfuckin’ disaster hurtling toward the star-crossed goddamned lovers. Could there ever be a happy ending? He blinked, Poppy’s face. Her beautiful face, swimming. Were they underwater? He blinked again at the sudden pain on his face, Poppy’s eyes coming into focus.

“What the—”

“Tora. Tora, hey,” she said, releasing his cheeks from between her fingers where she’d pinched him hard.

“Fuck, Bobby,” he said, rubbing his face.

“It hurts, doesn’t it?” she said, her voice even as she assessed him. “Maybe you’ll think twice about pinching me next time.”

They were…on the floor. He glanced around her kitchen, both of them on their knees. How’d they end up on the fuckin’ floor again? _Next time._

“You okay?” she asked softly, peering up at his face with wide eyes. Why hadn’t she kicked him out? Called the police? _Next time._

“What the fuck happened?” he asked. _Next time_.

“Well,” she said slowly, reaching over to him and pulling the strap of his bag up and over his head, gently. So gently, like she was afraid she might break him with her movements. “I’m not really sure?” her voice pitched up at the end, almost a question. “You froze for a couple minutes there, kind of spaced out. And you…” she thought for a moment, laying the strap of the bag carefully on the floor beside them, “you didn’t really _fall_ so much as you,” she held up a hand flat in front of her, moving her palm toward the ground, “sank.” Poppy looked back up at him.

He could feel his lips had parted—he barely remembered any of that. Just the gun. _Fuck, the gun_. That she’d found in his bag. He glanced over to the open duffel beside him, the takeout sat on top, but the gun was so clearly visible in the mesh pocket, the clip beside it. And the fuckin’ condoms. Little gold packets, unopened, taunting him. Tora laughed weakly. Couldn’t help it, the strangled sound escaping his throat, nearly a sob, as he brought his hands up to his face.

Her fingers, he could feel them wrap around his wrists, gently pulling his palms from his face. “Hey. Can we talk about it,” she said softly. He nodded wordlessly, watching as she untucked her legs from beneath her, turning to lean against the stove, waiting until he mirrored her movements, turning to face her as he stretched his legs out in a wide V on either side of hers, leaning back against the counter under the sink. He watched as she reached up behind her, opening the drawer to her utensils and grabbing two pairs of chopsticks, one of which she passed to him. She pointed at the takeout in the bag, “I’m starving, you mind if we eat while we talk?”

Tora nodded, quickly passing her one of the boxes, grateful for something to focus on. Why hadn’t she kicked him out yet? She wanted to eat with him? And talk? _Next time._ No way was he sayin’ no to that, but he had no idea what to expect. His hands were still shaking slightly, so he balanced his own box on one of his thighs, opening the top carefully. He huffed a laugh at the message scrawled along the inside of the cover and glanced up in surprise as Poppy also let out a laugh. They met each other’s eyes, both a little surprised. He nodded toward her, “what does yours say.”

She grinned at him, “ _she’s cute. Should take her to see Alice. Happy for you. You know Fran is._ ”

Tora laughed silently, figured Fred’d leave different messages for them and they’d end up going to the wrong person. When had the man even seen her? Maybe he wasn’t as far gone as Tora’d thought. “What about yours?” she asked, glancing at his box curiously.

Tora rolled his eyes, “ _says he bites, but he don’t got teeth_.”

He watched as Poppy laughed, throwing her head back against the stove. “I agree,” she said. Tora frowned as she took a bite of the barbecued meat. How the hell could she say something like that after what’d just happened? _Next time._

“Bobby,” he said carefully, “I brought a fuckin’ gun, a weapon. Into your home.” He shook his head, “got a lot of fuckin’ teeth—I’m not a good guy.” His frown deepened as he spoke, clenching his jaw in preparation for whatever came next.

“Well, we all have teeth,” she said with a small smile, sighing when he didn’t return it. “Tora,” she said slowly, chewing and swallowing before she continued, “you told me you’re a bodyguard.” He watched her fish out another piece of barbecue with the chopsticks, “and like you said,” she glanced up at him, “you don’t lie to me.” She waited until he nodded to look back down at her food. “So, though I never really thought about it before now, it makes perfect sense that you’d carry a gun,” she said before putting the meat on her tongue and nodding toward his own box as if to remind him that he should be eating, too. Tora looked down, fitting the chopsticks in his hand as he put some meat in his mouth on autopilot, too curious and nervous about what she was going to say to even taste the shit. “And to be honest,” she continued, “I’m more worried about the cigarettes than having an unloaded firearm in your bag because,” she swallowed, “I know you won’t hurt me.” He watched her face carefully as she seemed to choose her next words carefully. “And I mean, I’ve had a feeling you’re more than just run-of-the-mill private security,” she said, meeting his eyes from across the kitchen. They hadn’t turned the lights on when they’d gotten back and the sun was quickly setting, the dim light of dusk settling around them. Parts of her face were in shadow, but he could still read her expression clearly—calm. Unguarded, even. Her body relaxed against the counter, legs angled straight to his center as she ate, unafraid to hold his gaze, unfazed by the fact that they were again on her kitchen floor.

He took a chance. “What gave you that impression?”

She tilted her head, chewing for a moment before she swallowed. “The men at Chevy’s.” Before he could stop it, Tora felt his mouth fall open. Listened as she hummed, nodding her head. “So, I was right?” she smiled softly. “You know, maybe _I_ should be the detective,” she said, referencing her joke from…how many nights ago had it been? When he’d stood at her fridge looking at the photos.

“You don’t seem angry,” he said cautiously, picking at a piece of meat with his chopsticks and looking back up at her.

“Why would I be angry?” she furrowed her brow. “You know, I watched you,” she said. “The way you put yourself between me and them. Like you were…” she paused, searching his face, “protecting me. You didn’t even know me, but I’m sure that’s what you were doing. I don’t know what from, but,” she swallowed. “I know what it feels like to be protected, and that’s what I feel with you.” He watched as she tilted her head to the side, “well, one of the things I feel.” Poppy smiled, putting a piece of meat in her mouth as she waited for Tora to say something.

 _What I feel with you…one of the things I feel_ … _one of_. _Next time._ Tora held his breath, not daring to let himself hope. “Technically,” he said, choosing his words carefully, “I _am_ a bodyguard. To Quincey. But he’s just one of my…responsibilities.” He held her gaze, took a breath and repeated, “I’m not a good guy, Poppy.” He shook his head, continuing, “and I never should’ve let myself into your life. It was fuckin’ selfish—”

“Would you take it back?” she interrupted, eyes wide in the darkening room. “The liquor store, the wine box. Chevy’s, the other night,” she said, blushing at the last one. “Would you take it all back?”

He closed his mouth, swallowed. _Fuck. Lie, ya stupid fuck. Lie and get outta here. Protect her_. “I know I should say yes,” he started, taking in each micromovement of her face, the way the disappointment was leaking slowly up from her throat. “But like I told ya, I’m a selfish son of a bitch,” he breathed. “No way I could take it back, Bobby.” His voice was barely a whisper.

He watched a smile take root and blossom slowly across her face. She cleared her throat lightly, looking back down at her food, “good.”

 _Good?_ Did that mean…?

She looked up at him again, steeling herself for whatever she was about to say. “So, what else do you do if you’re not _just_ a bodyguard?”

Tora swallowed. Was he really about to tell her? He’d never actually spoken the words aloud—had never needed to, all the permanent fixtures in his life already knew. There was no going back, though. If he didn’t tell her, he knew—in his gut, he knew—that’d be it. She valued honesty above all else. And he was selfish, such a fuckin’ selfish bastard. Would do anything for the chance at a next time. “I’m in the mafia.”

The words hung in the air for a moment before settling along the floor like bags of sand in water. “The mafia,” she repeated. “You’re in the mafia.”

He huffed a laugh, had never heard it before either. Sounded unreal. Make-believe or some shit. The fuckin’ mafia. “Yeah, sounds fuckin’ weird. To hear it.”

She nodded, “hmm.” She tilted her head, then grabbed a piece of meat, popping it in her mouth and chewing. Tora’s stomach growled and he looked down in surprise. “You should eat or else I’m gonna finish mine and eat yours, too,” she said, smirking at him. Tora felt light, lighter than he’d ever felt before. He started eating in earnest, fuck, he was ravenous. When he glanced up, Poppy was smiling at him. He cocked a brow, mouth too full to ask her what she was smiling about. “Why do I get the sense you’ve never told anyone that before?”

Tora finished chewing and swallowed quickly, “I haven’t. Everyone I know is either in the clan or—” _dead._ Well, that wasn’t true, was it? He thought of Alice and Fred, glancing down at the words on the lid of his box. _Don’t got teeth._ “Or they’re already well aware.”

“Hmm,” she said, swallowing her bite before asking, “so then, Quincey?”

Tora laughed, then let out a deep breath. Fuck. “Yeah.” Better to keep it vague for now—he could always tell her later. _Later_. Holy shit, would there be a later? A next time?

He watched as she nodded her head slowly, setting aside the takeout box on the floor, carefully placing the chopsticks in the container. “So, you carry a gun,” she said, mulling the words over, “everywhere?”

Tora eyed her as he finished chewing, setting aside his own box as he swallowed. It’d be easier to brush around this, but maybe it’d be better just to bite the bullet. He decided on the latter, on as much honesty as he dared, nodding, “a few.” He watched as her eyes widened, glancing down toward the open bag, the weapon in the mesh. “The car,” he said, thinking of the trunk, the passenger seat where she’d been sitting not that long ago at all.

“Oh.” She brought a hand up to play with the end of one of her braids, seemingly lost in thought. He wanted desperately to close the distance between them, to move across the kitchen and pull her into his arms, the urge to protect her at odds with the knowledge that he was the threat. So he stayed put, he’d wait until she was ready—if she was ever ready again. “Are you in danger?” she asked softly, suddenly looking very small against the kitchen cabinets.

He frowned slightly, was she…worried? He opened his mouth to say no, course he wasn’t in danger. But instead, swallowed a second later. He couldn’t lie to her. But, fuck, he also didn’t want to scare her. He glanced out of the kitchen at the door to her apartment. He should’ve left when she’d seen the gun. Why was he drawing out the inevitable?

“Tora?” he looked back at her, her eyes pleading. Slowly, she bent her legs, her heels catching lightly in the denim fabric around his calf as she tucked her knees underneath her, her movements clearly difficult, still constrained by the skirt. But she was determined, he could see, her mouth set in a firm line as she moved toward him, her eyes on his. Closing the distance between them in the small kitchen as she crawled into the space between his legs until her knees nestled almost touching his crotch, her face level with his where he slumped against the counter. Her expression nearly broke him—had he ever seen her look so sad?

“Bobby,” he said softly, reaching a hand tentatively toward her cheek, expecting her to pull back at any moment. He held his breath as her eyes roamed his face before she leaned into his palm. Tora shuddered around an exhale—maybe this didn’t have to be the end of whatever fragile thing it was they had. And then he was pulling her toward him, unable to stop himself from wrapping his arms around her waist as he brought her into his lap, one hand moving to hold the underside of her knees, forearm skimming along the hem of her skirt as he pressed her to his chest. She tucked her head against his face so that their cheeks were pressed together, and he closed his eyes as she brought her arms up to wrap around his neck, pulling him somehow closer against her body. Could hear her breathing hard, or maybe that was him. He inhaled deep against the collar of her jacket, letting the gentle scent of her surround him again. The sensation of drowning, of falling and floating all at the same time wrapped up together around his lungs, wound tight as he swallowed thickly. One of her hands moved to cup the back of his head, fingers burrowing in his hair, finding the strawberry. He wasn’t sure how long they held each other like that, their breathing eventually syncing so that their chests moved together—the room so dark Tora could only see the faint outlines of her kitchen.

She tilted her head against his face, moving to wrap her arm over his shoulder. He felt her nose skim his neck, then the soft press of her lips to his throat. He swallowed at her touch, tightening his arms around her, rubbing his thumb against the skin of her thigh where his hand still wrapped the back of her leg.

“Can you quit?” her voice was barely a whisper against his skin. She kissed him again over the healed skin along his tattoo.

Tora shook his head slightly, not wanting to jostle her from him, scared that if she pulled away, she might not come back. “Nah, Bobby,” he said, then in an attempt at lightening the mood, joked, “can only try quittin’ one thing at a time.” He listened to her soft huff against his skin—clearly she wasn’t buyin’ his shit, not that he’d tried that hard anyway. He blinked his eyes closed, focusing on the sound of her breathing for a couple inhales. “Not that simple, sweetheart,” he said finally. She lifted her head to look at him and he mourned the loss of her hair against his neck, the weight of her braids against his chest, her warmth.

“How come?”

He held her gaze in the dim light of the kitchen window above the counter behind them. “Let’s call it a lifetime commitment,” he said finally. Almost made it sound reasonable. Tame, humane.

She frowned at that, “why would you join if you can’t back out? If it’s permanent? And dangerous,” she stumbled over the last word.

He shook his head once, watching her carefully, “didn’t get a choice, Bobby.”

Her face fell, mouth pulling open at what he’d implied. Before she could say something else, though, he said, “can tell ya some other time, sweetheart. S’a lot in one night.” He watched as she thought that over, finally nodding before he felt her fingers skim the tattoo at his neck. How was she being so patient with him? He didn’t fuckin’ deserve it.

“Does it have to do with these,” she asked quietly, moving her hand soft against the scars from Vincent’s glass of scotch.

He clenched his jaw, looking down at her knees still cradled against him. He rubbed his thumb along her back where he clutched her to his chest. Shit, he really didn’t want to bring Vincent into her kitchen, here into the warm bubble of her apartment. Didn’t want that fucker anywhere near her life. “Another time, Poppylan,” he said gently, meeting her eyes before he pulled his hand away from her legs, extending his pinky in the space between their chests. He watched the sadness fall away from her expression, replaced with something fiery…anger? With him? “I swear, Pop—”

As he spoke, she removed her hand from where it’d rested on the back of his neck, bringing it down quickly to wrap her pinky around his, she tightened her grip and—with a surprising amount of strength—pulled him against her until her lips were on his. Tora didn’t have time to think before his body had automatically responded, melting into her. She let go of his pinky, trailing her hand up his chest, his shoulder, until her fingers tangled once again in the hair at the base of his neck, pulling him more insistently against her as he dipped his hand again to wrap around the backs of her thighs, running his palms up and down the length of the bare skin of her legs, stopping short at the hem of her skirt. As she kissed him, she parted her knees slightly, and Tora’s heart leapt to his throat—was she really inviting him in? To hold her closer? To touch her, even after what she’d just learned about him? About who he was, what he did? Of course, she still didn’t know the half of it, but…she’d seen the gun, knew now that it wasn’t even his only one. Knew the scars on his neck were from something dangerous, her question still unanswered.

As though she could read his mind, his doubts, his own questions about what she wanted, she dragged her lips from his, pressing her open mouth to his jaw, down his neck, until she was kissing his throat, her fingers pulling at his hair and at the back of his shirt. He held his breath as he slid his hand back down her leg, his fingers circling the strap at her ankle briefly before he slowly trailed his palm back up the curve of her calf, fingers dipping lightly into the bend behind her knee, skimming her tendon as he rubbed his thumb along the crease where her muscle gave way to soft tissue, dimpled beneath his hand. He paused against the hem of her skirt, letting his fingers dip beneath the fabric up to his knuckles, his breathing heavy as she fisted her hand in the neckline of his shirt, her mouth hot, so wet against his skin as she kissed his scars. Her breath hitched as he moved his hand up further, fingertips caressing the inside of her thigh a handspan above where her knees had parted.

“Poppylan,” he rasped, mouth dry as he realized he’d been panting at her touch, his fingers pressing into her skin, the idea that she still wanted him threatened to overwhelm him entirely. That she still craved his touch as much as he did hers, that she’d seen him—a part of him that no one ever had—had understood and accepted it, he squeezed his eyes closed as she moaned against his throat, shifting her hips so that his hand pressed further into the gap between her legs, hidden beneath her skirt. Tora groaned at the feel of her other thigh pressed against the backs of his fingers—it was all the sign he needed. He moved his hand further up the back of her thigh, the fabric of the skirt tight against his arm, impeding his movement toward her center. Fuck, he needed to get this goddamn skirt off or he was gonna rip it from her body. Somehow, he didn’t think she’d appreciate that, and she was being so fuckin’ patient with him, so accepting of him. He couldn’t ruin her goddamned skirt. He managed to think through the haze around his head as Poppy continued to press wet kisses to his throat.

“Tora,” he heard her between kisses as she breathed one more word, “please.”

Before he knew what the fuck he was doing, his feet had pulled up close to his ass, heels digging into the floor, the metal fuckin’ handles of the cabinets scraping the skin through his shirt as he pressed up the counter behind him, the lip of a drawer catching on his trapezius as Poppy gasped a laugh, her hands quickly moving to cling to his neck as he stood, holding her tight to his chest as he grunted with the exertion of lifting the two of them from his reclined position on the floor. The mood had changed—her sudden laugh like a break in a storm and he was carrying her, his Bobby against his chest, clinging to him as he walked them across the apartment, one arm wrapped under her thighs, his palm gripping the side of her ass as the other clutched her to his chest, his fingers tight around her ribs just beneath the swell of her tit.

“Where, Bobby,” he groaned as he felt her tongue trail along his jaw.

She pulled away from him slightly, panting from the kissing, the laughing, the heat in his voice as she took in what he was asking her. He paused a couple paces from her couch which he’d managed to stumble by in the dark, still not quite used to the layout of her apartment, how close everything was. The perfect size for a tiny hamster, a little small for him but he liked the feel of it—the warmth of her space, of Bobby, all around him. Wanted to feel her everywhere, her body on him, around him. Fuck he really wanted to feel her around him. He leaned his head back, turning them until the light of the moon from her balcony, the city skyscrapers in the distance along the river illuminated her face. The smile still clung to her lips as she stared up at him. They stood breathing together for a few moments, the whir of the fridge clicking off before she finally breathed a word he hadn’t thought possible since they’d first got back with dinner, “bed.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *inserts Michael Scott "it's happening" gif*
> 
> Thank you thank you thank you for reading this story and for your sweet comments—they keep me going! Hopefully this chapter ending isn't so heart-stopping
> 
> Ch. 22: I mean…you know what’s coming…or who 🥵🥵 The real question: will Tora finally get to use one of those condoms?


	22. Impact

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Those condoms are burning a goddamn hole in Tora’s bag. Will he finally get to use one?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is really meant to be called “Impact Event” on keeping with the astronomy thread, but my god it’s just not sexy lmao
> 
> That being said….*coughs* NSFW *coughs*
> 
> As always, characters belong to the real MVP Lilydusk, brilliant creator of Midnight Poppy Land. Support her on Patreon! https://www.patreon.com/lilydusk
> 
> And last: I didn’t choose the cliffhanger life, the cliffhanger life chose me.

**Chapter 22**

Tora leaned his head back, turning them until the light of the moon from her balcony, the city skyscrapers in the distance along the river illuminated her face. The smile still clung to Poppy’s lips as she stared up at him. They stood breathing together for a few moments, the whir of the fridge clicking off before she finally breathed a word he hadn’t thought possible since they’d first got back with dinner, “bed.”

He swallowed, barely registering her face moving closer to his until she was kissing him again, had to remind his legs to move, how to fuckin’ walk. A step forward, another. Blind across her apartment as he closed his eyes to her touch, her arms around his shoulders, one hand stroking the hairs at the back of his neck as her tongue pressed against his. Another step and another, again until his shins hit the edge of her bed. Her smile so soft against his lips. Was this real? It must be, he thought, had never had a dream as fuckin’ sweet as her.

Tora sank to his knees, resting Poppy on the edge of the bed as he shifted his hold on her so that his hands wrapped around her waist, thumbs rubbing along the soft swell of her belly beneath her jacket before he ran his palms up her sides, her curves so warm, her body giving way under his touch. She brought her hands up to circle his wrists, encouraging his hands over her tits on a soft moan on his way up to slip his fingers under the collar of her jacket. His lips on hers, still in disbelief that this was really happening as he gently pushed the jacket off her shoulders, his lips losing contact with hers for a second as she shrugged out of the sleeves, releasing him momentarily before her hands were back, running firmly up and down his forearms. He inhaled sharply as she leaned forward, her head above his as he bent his neck back to meet her movements, her tits pressing just below his chin as she kissed him deeply, her palms running up the length of his arms to hold his jaw, her fingers gripping either side of his face. His tongue found hers as she angled his head up, hands circling back around his neck to twist in his hair before she ran them down his back, catching in the fabric around the hem of his shirt as she pulled it up slowly over his head.

Tora ducked quickly, shivering slightly at the cool air of her bedroom as she pulled the sleeves from his arms, or maybe it was from her touch as she quickly tossed the shirt onto the floor beside him, her fingers quickly returning to grasp the tattoos along his forearms as she traced the tendons beneath his skin, her mouth once again hot against his. Fuck, he couldn’t think straight at all—her scent, the taste of her, the feel of her under his hands intoxicating, could barely breathe under the weight of what was happening—this was really fuckin’ happening. Wasn’t just in his imagination or over the phone, Bobby was here, in the flesh, breathing deeply through her nose as her tongue traced his teeth, the tang of sweet barbecue on their lips. And what was more: she knew. She knew about the fuckin’ clan, knew and was agreeing to this anyway, her mouth unrelenting, her hands drawing him closer. He let himself fall into her pull, maybe the asteroid didn’t have to be so bad, he thought vaguely. The collision, a release, the final step in the rock’s journey, hurtling toward impact. Fuck, he was ready. Whatever she was willing to share, he’d let her pull him into her life again and again. His goddamn angel.

Tora ran his hands over the fabric tight against her thighs, up her hips until his fingers caught in the material of her shirt where it was bunched loosely into the back of her skirt, half-untucked already. His hands stilled, breathing hard through his nose as he pressed his lips against her mouth, waiting. Fuck, he could wait. Would wait forever if that’s what she wanted. Fuckin’ hoped it wouldn’t take forever, but he’d fuckin’ do it. He felt her nod against him on a soft moan and he couldn’t help but smile against her lips. His hands shook slightly as he pulled her shirt up from her skirt, trying not to move too quickly, terrified he might accidentally hurt her with the force of his need, his movements. Sweet fuck, he just wanted to rip the rest of her clothes away, press her back against the bed, finally plunge his face between her legs. But he could wait, he told himself again. His cock pressed painfully against the front of his jeans, screaming against the agonizing pace of his steady movements. _Your hands_ , she’d said. _I like how they feel when you touch me_.

Poppy broke from their kiss as he peeled the shirt up her torso, letting his palms skim her sides as his fingers gripped the material. She lifted her arms and dipped her head quickly, nearly hitting him in the nose in eagerness as they both laughed. “Shit, Bobby,” he smiled, “gonna knock me out before we get to the good part.”

“Oh, do you not like this part?” she smirked, as his gaze met hers, could feel the heat burning in his eyes, as he took in the hunger that played across her face. She leaned forward, bringing one hand up to run through the hair along the top of his head, nails skimming his scalp as he groaned into her touch, letting her pull his head back until his eyes met the ceiling, closing them briefly as he felt her tongue, her teeth along his neck. Shit, he _liked_ that. His eyes flew open a moment later as he felt her other hand run boldly down his lower abdomen, palm rubbing against his length through his jeans. Holy fuck, he _really_ liked that. Tora bit back a growl as he remembered the feel of her bare hand around him, pulling his head back up to face her, his lips finding hers, both of them still drawing gasps around their open-mouthed grins, sloppy kisses that he trailed down her neck, her collar bone as her hands moved to clutch his shoulders, his biceps, back to his shoulders.

He groaned as his lips found the swell of her tits, practically spilling from her bra as she leaned forward against him. He traced her curves with his tongue, finally dipping into the place between her tits, her scent filling his nose—was this what it felt like to be drunk? He couldn’t remember what it’d felt like last year. Surely this was better. As he sucked her skin gently, feeling a moan reverberate against his lips from the center of her chest, he slid his hands slowly up her hips to the clasp at her back, stilling as he grasped either end, his panting growing desperate against her chest as he waited. Just as he was about to look up at her, he felt her tits bounce with her nods, “please, yes,” she breathed, her hands rubbing his shoulders, his biceps in encouragement.

He growled at the need in her voice, a low sound that rumbled from his core up through his throat and against the skin of her chest as he unhooked the fabric, skimming his hands around to her shoulders to pull down the straps as he lifted his face away from her torso. He met her eyes as he pulled it from her gently, she was breathing heavy through her parted lips, her hair coming undone from the braids, face flushed in the soft moonlight that filtered through her bedroom window. Her hands skimmed up his arms again, coming to rest on either side of his jaw as she brought her lips to his, tender, so fuckin’ warm as she opened herself to him, sighing into his mouth as he brushed his palms, his thumbs across her bare chest, fingers quickly finding the stiff peaks of her nipples as he met her sigh with a groan of his own. It felt like he’d waited a lifetime for this moment, felt numb at the thought that he’d only known this woman for a week—how had so much changed in a week? She was like a beam of light he’d managed to grasp as she passed—how the fuck had they gotten here? His knees pressing against her floor, the skin between his bone and the wood aching, but he didn’t fuckin’ care—this woman. She was everything. All that mattered, would kneel at her feet for the rest of his fuckin’ life if she asked.

Tora lowered his head down her neck, sucking the skin of her throat as he trailed open-mouthed kisses with his teeth against the soft hum of her voice, her moans floating in the air around them. Slowly, he rose up on his knees, planting one foot on the floor as he cupped the back of Poppy’s neck with one of his hands, pressing his other palm into the mattress as he leaned her backwards. He felt her fingers on his sides, rubbing up and around toward the backs of his shoulders as he kissed her throat. She breathed his name again and he smiled against her skin, leaning over her body, down, down until his lips closed over one of her nipples, his other hand palming the other side of her chest, rolling her other peak between his fingers as her back arched up into his caress. Fuck, he’d never been harder, hoped he’d be able to get his fuckin’ pants down when the time came. If the time came. Shit, the condoms—he’d left them in the kitchen, but it didn’t matter. They had time, Poppy, the soft curves of her body under his hands, his tongue—shit, he wanted to taste her, needed his mouth along her folds, couldn’t fuckin’ wait. He brought a hand down her side, hooking his fingers in the top of her skirt, rubbing the skin beneath the material with his knuckles as she writhed her hips up against him. She was making it so hard to control his movements, not to rip the fuckin’ clothes from her body. He swallowed harshly against her chest, sucking her tit between his teeth once more before he groaned, “fuck, Bobby.” He pressed his knuckles against her skin again, panting hard against the soft swell of her chest as her tits heaved with each of her gasps.

“Yes,” she breathed, bringing one of her hands down from his shoulder to press his hand insistently.

“Bobby,” he moaned, tugging at the skirt but it wouldn’t fuckin’ move, why wouldn’t it fuckin’ move. He groaned, almost a whine he was so fuckin’ desperate, “how the fuck—”

“Zipper,” she panted, pressing her tits into his face as she sat up on her elbows.

He groaned, hand moving back up to wrap around her ribs, how the fuck was she so goddamn tiny? His fingers gripped around her back as his thumb skimmed her breast, his lips parting to tongue the center of her chest, “don’t move, Bobby,” he breathed heavily, smirking against her tits as she stilled, “wanna die right here,” he said.

She laughed then and his cock leapt at the feel of her tits bouncing against his face. “Fuuuuuck, Bobby, ya killin’ me,” he groaned, nosing along the heavy weight of her tits, pressing his mouth to her as he sucked the skin along the underside of her breast between his teeth, listening as her gasp turned into a moan before kissing away the sting.

“Toraaaa,” she breathed as he moved his head lower, slipping from the bed as he dropped back to his knees, his hands running up and down her thighs as he watched her sit up fully, her arms twisting behind her until he heard a zip. A moment later, she fell back against the mattress, pressing her shoulders into the bed as she lifted her hips, her thumbs scrabbling at the waistband of the skirt. Tora dragged his hands up her hips until his fingers hooked the material, feeling her fingers pushing against his. Shit, maybe he was being too fast, maybe she’d want to take it off? He let go, making to lower his hands back down her thighs. “Please, I can’t get it,” she groaned, reaching for his hand and catching it with her fingers.

“I got ya, Bobby,” he murmured as he quickly hooked his fingers back into the skirt, pulling the material until it’d released from around the swell of her ass. She dropped her hips back to the bed as he peeled the material down her legs, gripping her ankles in one hand and lifting her legs out to the side as he pulled the skirt off over her heels. He stared up at her for a moment, trying to memorize every detail of the sight of her: her braids now thoroughly mussed around the top of her head, one side coming apart completely as she’d lost the tie around the end, her lips swollen from their desperate kissing, her mouth open around soft pants—he didn’t think he’d ever tire of the sounds she made. Her chest rose and fell dramatically in the moonlight, her nipples tight with desire, slick from his tongue. He shook his head softly—why the fuck had she chosen him? He wasn’t good enough for her, not even close—but he knew he wouldn’t stop, knew he was a fuckin’ selfish bastard. But he’d think about that later.

She brought a hand to his jaw and he closed his eyes, leaning his face fully into her palm as her thumb stroked his cheekbone. _I love ya_ , he swallowed the words, breathing her in. Just him and Bobby, her plants, the quiet darkness of her apartment. He’d meant it—if he died here…well, there were much worse ways to go—he fuckin’ knew. “Hey,” she murmured, waiting as he blinked, finding her eyes. She smiled softly, pulling him back to her from his thoughts. He smiled back, turning his head to kiss her palm, cocking an eyebrow a moment later as she slipped two of her fingers along his lower lip, running them against his teeth as he opened his mouth to her. He watched as she ran her tongue along her lips, “ _don’t got teeth_ , huh,” she said, a slow smirk spreading over her face as he lightly nipped at her fingers.

“Careful, Bobby—might get bit.”

“Mmm,” she hummed. “Yeah, might.” He swallowed, pulling her index finger between his teeth lightly and stroking her with his tongue as he held her gaze for a moment, watching her lips part before he dipped his head to her knees, pressing hot kisses to her skin, his hands stroking up and down her calves.

“Whaddaya say we take these off, sweetheart,” he murmured against her skin, looking up at her as his thumbs skimmed the straps around her ankles. Her breath hitched as he raised one of her feet to his chest, the bottom of her shoe, the spike of her heel pressed against the peonies as he kissed his way down her shin, slowly undoing the buckle before he took the shoe off, letting it drop to the floor beside him as he carefully circled her ankle, placing her leg back down before he grabbed the other one. She was breathing hard, watching as he slowly repeated the process until the shoe fell away from her. “Fuck, Bobby,” he murmured, kissing his way back up her leg, running his hands up her thighs, his fingers stopping along the edge of her panties, “just wanna eat ya.” He pulled himself up until he was bent over her lap, nose nuzzling against the swell of her stomach, tongue flicking out along the seam at the top of her panties. The pair she wore were white, a little piece of ribbon at the center folded into a bow, fuck, he wanted to unwrap her, was so close, this one slip of fabric left—barely anything. She smelled so good through the cotton, and once again, he could feel what he was sure were soft curls over her mound.

“This okay, Bobby?” he asked lowly, his thumbs rubbing along the dip of her pelvis along the seam of her panties. With every press and release, he could hear her inner lips kissing together, could hear how fuckin’ wet she was. He swallowed against the wave of lust that threatened to fully cloud his head, needed to savor every moment of this. Needed to take his fuckin’ jeans off so he could feel her hand on his cock, her mouth around him, anything. Wanted nothing more than to press into her, they were so close, but the idea that it was her first time kept coming back to him, cutting through the haze. He couldn’t rush this, she was too fuckin’ precious. And if there was any chance that this might happen again…fuck, he _needed_ there to be a next time.

“Mmhmmm,” she breathed as he skimmed over her center, the cotton under his finger was damp and when he pulled away to look, he could see the faint outline of her lips through the cloth in the moonlight.

“Fuck, Bobby,” he whispered, his voice hoarse with desire. Sounded like a needy fuckin’ bastard, and he didn’t give a single shit. There was only Bobby—let her know how much he wanted her, how much he needed her. He skimmed one palm up the length of her body until his fingers found her tit, rolling her nipple as he pressed the heel of his hand against her mound, rubbing slowly up then down. Watched as she threw her head back in a silent gasp, her feet wrapping around his back as she shuddered.

“Toraaaa,” she moaned, her fingers clenching in the blanket.

He squeezed his eyes shut, focusing on his breathing. _Not yet, not yet, not yet_ , the tightness of his jeans against his cock nearly too much to handle. He inhaled sharply before blinking up at her, finding her eyes as she looked down at him, her chest shuddering, nipples so fuckin’ tight. “Wanna taste ya, Bobby,” he rasped, swallowing hard at the subconscious roll of her hips against his hand, “wanna feel ya.” He clenched his jaw at the heat in her gaze, smirking as he used her word, “no _undies_.”

Watched as she bit her lip around a smile, the nod of her head slow as she brought a palm up to cup the knuckles of his hand on her tit. She leaned her head back slightly, arching her back into his touch as Tora slipped his thumb beneath the cotton of her panties, skimming along her slit once, twice, before dipping between her inner folds. His head fell forward against her stomach as he panted against her skin—she was so fuckin’ wet, so goddamn warm, his balls clenched tight against his body as he dragged his thumb up to circle her clit with his thumb, listening to the gentle sounds of her wetness, her lips. “Sweet fuck, Poppylan,” he groaned.

He barely registered the way she’d begun to pant, and then she was moaning his name as he brought his other hand down between her legs to pull the thin layer of cotton aside, dipping his head to kiss her before pushing his tongue against her folds. He inhaled deeply—she’d been right, she tasted faintly of tea but also something musky, vaguely sweet. Could he live here? he wondered through a haze as he licked her with the flat of his tongue, Bobby’s moans catching around his name, her hips writhing against his nose, his mouth. Fuck, he needed to get these off her, wanted to fully bury his face between her legs. He pulled up slightly, fingers hooking in the top of her panties as he breathed heavily, waiting. “Bobby,” he croaked, feeling her fingers beside his as she pushed at the material, pulling her feet up from around his back to dig her heels into the bed, lifting her hips slightly as Tora quickly pulled the cotton down her legs. His mouth ran dry at the sight of her, completely bared to him, knees parted as she sat up on her elbows. His lips parted as he watched a blush feather out from her neck down the center of her chest, dappling her stomach as she bit her lip, eyes wide as she watched him take her in. He brought his hands up to circle her ankles on the edge of the bed, “Poppylan,” he murmured, voice catching at the end of her name. He swallowed thickly at the worry in her eyes. “Goddamn, sweetheart. How the hell are ya so beautiful?”

Her lips parted in surprise at his words as he slowly pulled himself up from the floor, crawling up over her, his thighs pressing against the backs of hers, nudging her up further onto the bed until she was propped on the pillows. He placed a hand along her jaw, angling her head back so he could kiss her deeply, his tongue finding hers as she moaned into his mouth before he broke away from her lips, slowly kissing his way down her body, lingering here and there as he tenderly sucked her skin along her curves between his teeth, her fingers in his hair as he made his way down her body. When he reached her mound, he flattened himself on the bed between her legs, reaching down to adjust his cock so that it was pressed up against his hip before shouldering his way gently between her thighs until her feet rested along his sides.

He looked up at her, meeting her wide eyes, watching the way she panted lightly before he brought his palms up to wrap around her inner thighs, spreading her wider, “gonna eat ya now, Bobby,” he rasped, smirking at the way her eyes widened even further, before he pressed his tongue back between her folds. He watched as her head fell back, the skin of her throat rippling in the moonlight as she swallowed a gasp. He circled her clit with his tongue, noting when her body twitched at certain movements, learning what she responded strongest to. As she began to roll her hips against his face, he brought one of his hands around to stroke two fingers up and down her outer lips, featherlight as she panted, her fingers opening and closing on his scalp. He smiled against her mound, flattening his tongue against her clit—she seemed to like what his fingers were doing. As he continued to move his index and middle fingers up and down her lips, he pressed his thumb lightly against her entrance, his hips bucking reflexively against the mattress at the way she slicked over his thumb as he pressed into her. His tongue stilled against her as he breathed deeply—she was so fuckin’ tight, so wet—not even in his wildest dreams had he imagined she’d feel this good. He moved his thumb slightly inside her and she let out a low moan, his cock jumping at the sound, her fingers stilling in his hair as she breathed heavily. Fuck, he needed to hear that again. He withdrew his thumb from her, tonguing at her clit again as he pushed his index finger inside her slowly. _Sweet everloving fuck_ , and he’d thought she’d felt good around his _thumb_. He moaned against her and she bucked up into him, letting out a soft _oooh_.

_Interesting_ , he thought, sliding another finger inside her. He hummed low again, tracing sloppy circles around her clit with his tongue. He curled his fingers inside her and she began to pant in earnest, her feet coming up to rest on his back, her heels digging in slightly every couple of seconds whenever he hummed, her walls beginning to tense around his fingers, _fuck,_ she felt so goddamn good, couldn’t wait to bury his cock inside her, feel his hips pressed against hers. Moments later, he felt her fingers tighten in his hair, her pelvis rocking against his face, his hands as she let out a low moan around his name, her breathing frantic as her thighs began to shake until she was arching into him, her walls pulsing around his fingers as her wetness dripped into his palm. Tora dipped his tongue down from her clit to swipe along her entrance, fuck, he didn’t think he’d ever get over how she tasted, didn’t think he’d ever get enough. Tora kissed her inner thigh as his fingers stilled inside her, his other hand reaching to rub along her ass where it swelled out from under her. Fuck, she was gorgeous, even in the dim light he couldn’t get enough of watching her, a sheen of sweat glistening between her tits and at the hollow of her throat, along her collarbones. He pressed a kiss to her mound before he slowly withdrew his fingers from inside her, bringing them to his mouth to swipe along his tongue as her eyes widened, watching him, her chest still heaving slightly.

“Ya up for more, Bobby?” he asked her softly, his voice gravelly, chin slick. His jaw ached, but he didn’t fuckin’ care—he didn’t think he’d ever been happier. Tora watched as she smiled slowly, reaching her hands toward him in a silent ask. He crawled up the bed over her, dipping his lips to hers as she opened her mouth against his. She laughed, pulling away slightly.

“I can taste myself,” she whispered.

“Mmm,” he agreed, “fuckin’ delicious. Wanna eat ya every goddamn day.” He smirked at the look on her face, “for breakfast,” he dipped his head to her neck, sucking her skin gently between his teeth, “for second breakfast,” he felt her laugh in her throat as he nuzzled his way down to her collarbone, his tongue darting out quickly against her skin as she gasped. “For lunch,” he ducked his mouth against one of her tits, pulling in as much of her as he could as he tongued her nipple, her breathing growing ragged as he dipped one of his hands back down between her legs, stroking two fingers along her slick folds. He moved his mouth to her other tit, “an afternoon snack,” slowly pushed his middle and ring fingers inside her, pulling away from her chest to watch as her mouth fell open on a shallow inhale, “make a meal of ya for dinner,” he murmured before running his tongue along the undersides of her tits. “I’m a big guy, got a big appetite, Bobby,” he said, lowering his voice on her nickname. He stilled his hand inside her and waited until she looked down at him, a question in her eyes. “Ya ready for more, sweetheart?” he clenched his jaw as he inhaled, his cock so fuckin’ hard, couldn’t think straight as he waited for her response. _Please say yes, please._

“Are you?” she asked around a smile as his eyes widened.

_Sweet fuck_ , he hopped up from the bed, pointing at her as he strode from the room, “Bobby, don’t ya dare fuckin’ move.”

“Tora?” He paused, hand on the archway as he looked back at her. Watched as she licked her lips, steeling herself as she met his eyes, “I-I want you.” He swallowed against the dryness of his tongue, running a hand over his mouth before he strode back over to her, bringing his hand down to cup the side of her throat as he angled her jaw up toward him, kissing her deeply as they both breathed hard.

“Shit, Bobby,” he said, as he pulled away, “say that again when I get back.” He watched as she smiled, tucking a lock of her hair that had completely escaped one of her braids behind her ear. “Fuckin’ gorgeous,” he breathed before he turned quickly, jogging to the kitchen where he ducked to the bag still open on the floor, ripping open the mesh pocket and grabbing one of the condoms before nearly sprinting back across the apartment.

She smirked as he approached the bed, quickly shucking off his jeans and tripping lightly. Could feel a blush across his cheeks. Holy fuck, she was gonna think he was a virgin, too. He thumbed his briefs but paused as she said, “wait.” He held his breath, hoping beyond hope she hadn’t changed her mind. Of course it was her choice but, fuck, he’d really thought they were gettin’ there tonight. He watched as she slid to the edge of the bed, staring up at him with wide eyes as she tucked her fingers into his waistband, his cock jumping at the contact. “Can I?” she asked, her hands stilling. Tora swallowed, nodded. Couldn’t speak at all, his throat so fuckin’ dry, how’d it gotten so dry, as she pulled on the fabric. His cock finally bobbed free and he almost smirked at the way her lips parted in surprise, her quick glance back up at him.

“Whaddaya think, sweetheart,” he murmured, “bigger than three?”

She jerked her head twice, biting her lip as she reached out slowly. Tora’s breath caught in his chest as her fingers wrapped around him again. He couldn’t stop the groan that escaped his throat as she stroked him, the side of her hand, her wrist, gently tapping his balls with each thrust. He let his head fall back, his hands hanging limply at his sides, the condom dangling from his fingers. Suddenly, he felt her breathe hot against him and a moment later, her lips tentatively skimming over his head. Tora threw a hand out, catching the wall beside her bed as he inhaled sharply, his eyes wide as he pulled his head down to look at Poppy, perched at the edge of the bed. And then she looked up at him, her tongue swirling once around his head. Tora couldn’t breathe, couldn’t fuckin’ think as he moaned her name. Apparently satisfied with his reaction, she hummed around him and he nearly lost it, _sweet fuck_ , no _wonder_ she’d liked it when he’d moaned against her. He quickly put his hands on her cheeks to still her movements before she gently pulled off him with a soft pop. “Did I do it wrong?” she asked, her eyes worried.

He barked a laugh, “shit no, Bobby. Just don’t wanna come yet.”

She smiled slowly, her gaze falling to the tattoo around his leg, her fingers lightly skimming the ink at the dip of his hip as she watched him tear open the wrapper of the condom. He almost laughed—it felt like he’d been carrying the fuckin’ thing around for a whole goddamn century, pinin’ after Bobby, hoping for the chance to use it. What a fuckin’ sucker. He rolled it down his shaft and—holy shit, it _wasn’t_ fuckin’ painful. He flicked the gold wrapper onto the floor, nodding at Poppy as she scooted back on the bed. Could feel his heart beating practically out of his chest as he crawled toward her, nestling his hips between her legs. They were doin’ this. Really fuckin’ doin’ this. His Bobby, this woman he loved. As he met her eyes, his heart skipped at the realization that he was about to have sex that _meant_ something for the first time. She was breathing hard, her head leaned back against the pillows as he moved his arms to press into the mattress on either side of her, dipping his head to kiss the side of her throat as he brushed the hair away from her cheeks. He let his eyes roam her face in the near darkness of the room, her breath warm on his skin.

“Gonna go slow, sweetheart,” he murmured, kissing her lightly as she nodded against him. “Ya lead, I follow.”

“Mmm,” she hummed, “I lead, you follow.”

“That’s right, Bobby,” he smiled against her lips, reaching down between them to run a finger between her folds. She inhaled at the touch, bringing her hands up to wrap around his neck, fingers stroking the skin along his spine, his shoulders as she kissed him. Tora grabbed the base of his cock, lining himself up against her entrance and breaking from their kiss, a whisper of space between their lips. “Ya good, Bobby?”

She nodded, pressing her lips back to his as she pulled at his shoulders, his neck. Tora pressed his hips slowly into her until the tip of his head was nestled in her entrance, pulling his mouth from hers to breathe against the side of her face before kissing the dip of her shoulder. He wasn’t in very far at all and she was already so fuckin’ warm, so tight. He felt her hook her feet around the backs of his thighs, pulling him slowly into her as she gasped. He stilled, turning his face to look at her, kissing her jaw as he breathed heavily through his nose. It was taking all of his self-control not to plunge the rest of the way in. _She leads, ya follow_. He felt her breathing even out, her tits swelling against his chest and then she was pulling him further against her, her fingers digging into his neck as he pressed the rest of the way in. She cried out and Tora immediately stilled, _shit, shit, ya fuckin’ hurtin’ her_ —he made to lean his hips back, but she dug her feet into the backs of his thighs, holding him in place.

“Don’t,” she gasped.

“Bobby—”

She shook her head against his neck, let out a long hum on an exhale. He took an inhale, then another as he felt her slowly relax before she nodded. Tora waited, breathing against her shoulder and then her fingers were in his hair, guiding his face to hers as she kissed him, grinding her hips once against his. _Fuuuck_ , he slowly withdrew and pushed back into her as she gasped around a soft moan. Tora closed his eyes, letting the feel of her wash over him—this beautiful, wonderful fuckin’ hamster of a woman who’d welcomed him into her life with a smile, _I love her_. He rocked against her, breathing heavily as he kissed her neck, one hand sliding down her side to grip the swell of her hip where her legs flared out around him.

“Toraaaa,” she moaned, arching up against him. Fuck, would he ever get enough of her? He smiled against her skin, rubbing his thumb against her hip as she pressed her feet up against his ass, pulling him harder into her hips. “Tora, please,” she breathed again.

“Mmm, Bobby?” He kissed her collarbone, flicking his tongue against her skin as she panted.

“You said,” she took a breath, “you said I lead.” He frowned slightly—was he pushing her? “Harder,” she moaned, digging her heels into his ass as he rocked forward.

Tora laughed against her skin, “I don’t know, Bobby,” he murmured, kissing his way to her chest, “ya never answered my question earlier.”

“Hmm?” she moaned, her mouth falling open around her exhales as he sucked her nipple between his teeth.

“Who’d ya want, Bobby,” he lowered his voice until it was a growl against her skin. “This mornin’ at ya office—who’d ya want.”

“I did…answer you,” she panted, her hands moving as far down his back as she could reach, trying to pull him against her harder.

“Mmmm,” he smiled against her tit, flicking his tongue out again as her fingers tightened. “Wanna hear it again, Bobby.” He did. Needed to hear that she wanted him as much as he wanted her, even now as he buried himself inside her, her feet pulling him closer—he needed to hear the words on her lips.

She moaned again and Tora pulled back, stilling her hips with his hand as she tried to pull him closer. “Toraaa,” she groaned, “I want you, _need_ you,” the words spilled from her mouth and he exhaled harshly, snapping his hips into her as he brought his thumb down between them to rock against her mound. He watched as her mouth fell open, her breath hitching as her legs tightened around his waist. He leaned forward against her torso, sucking her nipple back into his mouth as he felt her thighs begin to tremble, her walls begin to pulse around him. He tried to hang on, squeezing his eyes shut against the sensation of Bobby coming around his cock, but he couldn’t—a moment later, as she moaned his name again, he felt the tension low in his groin bubble over as he spilled into the condom, sliding in and out of her on a couple more slow rocks before he stilled, breathing heavily against her shoulder. He could feel the sweat on their skin cooling in the air of the bedroom as they breathed against each other. Realized a moment later that she was stroking his back softly, her fingers swirling over his skin before he felt her lips press against the side of his forehead. He turned his head to look at her, found her soft smile in the moonlight, fuckin’ beautiful, a goddamn angel.

“Ten out of ten,” she murmured.

He laughed against her, feeling his body shake hers with each exhale. Loved being pressed against her, no barriers. “What, no room for improvement?” he smirked, loving every second of her teasing, pride filling his chest at the idea that she’d enjoyed it as much as he had.

“Mmm, I don’t know,” she smiled. “Guess we’ll have to find out.”

He felt his eyebrows raise slightly before a grin split across his face. _Next time._ He slid his arms underneath the small of her back, twisting until he’d pulled her on top of him. She laughed as he buried his face in her chest, listening as he groaned at the feel of her bare skin against his face, how soft she was, before she gasped at the sensation of his cock slipping from her warmth. “Holy shit, Bobby,” he murmured against her skin as her laughter softened to gentle panting, “ya sure that was ya first time? Fuckin’ amazin’.”

He felt her chest heat in a flush against his face before she pulled herself up slightly, palms pressing into the mattress on either side of his neck. She shook her head a couple times, the blush across her cheeks bright even in the darkness of the room. “You’re just saying that…” she trailed off, looking at the pillows beside him.

“Nah, sweetheart,” he lifted a hand from her back, skimming up her side between their bodies until he reached her face, tucking some of her hair behind her ear. “Wouldn’t lie to ya. Never felt like that before,” he murmured. It was the truth.

She worried a lip between her teeth, his hands slipping from her as she pushed herself up and off him. He watched by the dim light of the moon filtering through her window as she walked to the door behind her mirror, opening it slightly and reaching in to grab something. Propping himself up on one elbow, he pulled a foot up toward his ass, bending a knee as he took in the shape of her bare body—her skin practically glowed in the silvery light, the soft curves of her making his throat tighten as she pulled a robe around her shoulders, tying it loosely around her waist as she turned back around to face him. How the fuck had he gotten so lucky? She was everything, how could someone so small have taken over so much of his life? She ran her hands up through her hair, pulling out the hair tie from one of her braids and laughing softly when she realized she’d lost the other one at some point.

Tora sat up, sliding to the edge of the bed where he motioned for her to come closer. As she walked over to him, he couldn’t help but admire her, his eyes dropping to the narrow V of skin that bared her collarbone and the shadow between her tits before coming to a point just above the place where she’d tied the thin material. He swallowed hard, still not really believing what they’d just done, what she’d shared with him. There was no going back, he realized, no way he’d ever leave her willingly unless she asked. _Fuck_ , he really hoped she’d never ask that of him. Wasn’t sure if he’d survive that special brand of torture. She slipped between his legs and he brought his hands to her hips, kissing her stomach gently before turning her around so that she stood sideways between his knees. He reached up and ran his fingers through the end of the braid closest to him, gently detangling the strands as she reached up to the other one, mirroring his movements. He kept one hand higher than the other, firmly holding her hair in place so the fingers running through the ends wouldn’t tug her scalp.

“You’re good at that,” she murmured, her voice like a warm embrace lifting him gently back from his thoughts.

He laughed softly through his nose, “lots of practice, sweetheart.” He inclined his head slightly, meeting her eyes for a moment as loose strands of his own hair fell away from the bun and around the sides of his face.

“Mmm,” she hummed in understanding. “You always have long hair?” she asked a moment later.

He’d made it half-way up her braid, fingers deftly separating the twisted strands that had frizzed slightly from the pillows. He smiled softly, thinking back to the way he’d styled his short hair as a teenager, the wild colors he’d used. What a fuckin’ punk. “Nah, ya wouldn’t’ve recognized me,” he said, swallowing hard. _Fuck_. If she really was who he thought she might be…he shook his head slightly, not letting himself dwell on that.

“Mmm,” she hummed, her arms moving up higher to reach around her head. “I think I would.” She turned slightly to glance at him. “Not many people with eyes that color.”

“Oh yeah?” he said, cautiously. He cleared his throat once, fingers moving against her scalp as he tried to slow his heartrate. If she was that sure that she would’ve recognized his eyes, then there was no way she could be the same person. He bit the inside of his mouth—there was no reason to feel disappointed. He’d known it couldn’t be her. Would’ve been…impossible. Not just improbable or unlikely. Fuckin’ impossible.

“Only ever met a few,” she said softly. When he glanced up at her face, she was frowning.

“Ya good, Bobby?” he felt his eyebrows dip down toward his nose as he wondered what had upset her.

“Mmm? Oh, yeah,” she shook her head slightly. “Just thinking.” After a moment she sighed and then smirked slightly, turning to meet his gaze. He felt his heart stop at what she said next. “You ever dye yours blue?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wooooooooooooooooooooooooooo, bingo!!!!!!!!! My first time writing a full-on sex scene and I’m s-w-e-a-t-ing 🥵🥵🥵🥵 Hope y’all enjoyed and hope the wait was worth it 😘😜Lol @me thinking I wouldn't finish this by the end of the week, these two just make it so hard to stop
> 
> Listened to Bassjackers “All My Life” (Lucas & Steve edit) on repeat as I edited this and I feel like the happy vibes def. influenced how it turned out. 
> 
> Thank you thank you thank you for reading this story and for your sweet comments—they keep me going!
> 
> Ch. 23: I’m just gonna keep weaving these threads together like Poppy’s hair…


	23. Again?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tora gets distracted from the question at hand.
> 
> Alt. title: “And then you roll”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y’all had me WEEPING at your comments last chapter 🥺❤️😭
> 
> Got some more NSFW content for ya 😘
> 
> Wrote this to listening to “Come Through and Chill” on repeat for the vibes, not so much the words but w/e.
> 
> As always, characters belong to the real MVP Lilydusk, brilliant creator of Midnight Poppy Land. Support her on Patreon! https://www.patreon.com/lilydusk

**Chapter 23**

“Ya good, Bobby?” he felt his eyebrows dip down toward his nose as he wondered what had upset her.

“Mmm? Oh, yeah,” she shook her head slightly. “Just thinking.” After a moment she sighed and then smirked slightly, turning to meet his gaze. He felt his heart stop at what she said next. “You ever dye yours blue?”

Tora blinked, quickly blanking his face as he shook his head slightly. “No,” his voice cracked, and he inhaled quickly, turning his eyes back toward her hair, focusing intently on the movements of his fingers as he made his way up her scalp, loosening the hair from her braid. That couldn’t be a fuckin’ coincidence, could it? Did she know Goliath somehow? He licked his lips—his mouth suddenly so dry—“hey, Bobby,” he nearly choked out, coughing once slightly. “Ya mind if I grab some water?”

“Oh!” she gasped, quickly moving out from between his legs. “Oh my gosh, of course, Tora. I’m so sorry!” He forced a laugh— _act fuckin’ normal, ya fuck._ Tried to focus on how damn cute she was.

“S’fine, Bobby,” he said, standing up. Without her heels on, he towered over her even more. He put a hand on her shoulder, gently guiding her aside as he looked around the floor for his briefs, his other palm coming up to cup himself gently, shielding his thighs from the wet condom.

She reached a hand down to trace over the ink on his leg at the dip of his hip again, seemingly without realizing it because—at a low groan that rumbled reflexively in his chest from her touch—she suddenly caught herself, looking up at him. “Sorry,” she murmured, removing her hand and reaching back up to her hair to finished undoing her other braid before running her fingers quickly across her scalp.

“Feels nice,” he murmured, tilting his head to get a better look at her face, the slight blush coloring her throat. “Ya can touch me any time, Bobby,” he said, feeling his mouth pull up in a smirk—like his face was on autopilot. She didn’t seem to be able to tell, since she smiled, walking past him toward the kitchen.

“That a promise?” she asked over her shoulder, lips pulling up into a light smirk, her eyes bright as she teased him.

Tora bit back another groan. Fuck, how did he already want her again? Could feel his cock twitching against his palm, the condom brushing wet against his skin, almost as insistent as the thoughts of the clan, his brother, that circled the edge of his consciousness. “Fuckin’ _pinky_ , Bobby,” he called after her, taking a moment to watch her walk away from him, her laughter inviting him to follow, the short fabric of the robe just barely covering her ass, the material clinging to her with each sway of her hips. Fuck, he swallowed thickly, biting his lip. Now that he knew what she felt like…shit, he’d never be able to concentrate on anything again. He shook his head slightly— _you ever dye yours blue?_ Goddammit, motherfuckin’ Goliath. There was no way…could be no way.

He glanced around the floor of the room, finally finding his briefs beside the pile of his jeans, quickly bending to pick them up before walking in the direction of her bathroom. He opened the door, flicking the light on and blinking rapidly at the sudden brightness against the mostly white room, his eyes focusing on the little cacti on her shower curtain. He turned, shutting the door most of the way, reaching absent-mindedly for the roll of toilet paper as he thought about her question. What had made her say that? Blue hair—how many other people in the goddamn world had blue hair and his color eyes? Just one that he knew of. He froze, hand still extended where he’d torn off a couple squares from the roll, bent over the toilet as he thought back to her choice of words. _Only ever met a few._ His mouth parted. What if— _no._ He’d already gotten his answer. _But if she doesn’t know that ya the kid who walked her home_ …then wouldn’t it make sense that she’d consider the teenager with the short orange hair and the yellow fuckin’ eyes one of _a few_? He shook his head. _No_ , he thought, she’d said she would’ve recognized him…but even Tora had to admit he looked real fuckin’ different now. Had bulked up considerably as he matured into manhood and he had long fuckin’ black hair. He tried to remember whether or not he’d had the brand on his neck yet when he’d first passed through Moonbright. She sure as shit would’ve remembered _that_ fuckin’ ugly mark, right?

Tora looked down to peel the condom from his cock, freezing a moment later. _Fuck, was that—?_ He looked at his palms, his fingers—stained a coppery red. Definitely blood, dried, would know it anywhere. Shit. He’d definitely hurt her. He quickly peeled the condom off, taking care not to let the cum spill from the tip—also sticky with blood, lube, and Bobby—before rolling it carefully in toilet paper and tossing it in the little wastebasket next to her toilet. He spun off another couple of sheets, wiping himself down, splotches of blood dried along the tops of his thighs, a streak in the crease of his hips, before flipping the lid of the toilet to piss. He’d need to wash it off. Later. First: Bobby.

 _Shit, girls bled their first time, right?_ He’d heard that somewhere? Really hoped that was the case, that it was normal, that he hadn’t fuckin’ hurt her. _Goddamn it,_ _ya better not’ve fuckin’ hurt her_. _Shit_. He’d tried to be gentle, should’ve fuckin’ known his body wasn’t fuckin’ capable of that. He quickly flushed, tossing the paper into the bowl and washing his hands in the sink, swallowing as the blood circled the drain, all too familiar, one hand automatically reaching to his right before he caught himself. Fuck, he bit the inside of his mouth between his teeth in annoyance. He wasn’t at his apartment—of course the scrub brush he kept beside the sink for getting the blood under his nails wasn’t here. _Ya shady fucker_ , he glanced up at himself in the reflection as he palmed more soap into his hands, shaking his head. His hair was a fuckin’ mess, tangled half up in the bun that had fallen loose around his face, the strawberry just barely visible near the top of his head. He angled his jaw up, couldn’t help the smirk as he traced a finger across the faint bruising along his throat, his shoulders from her love bites. He liked her marks way better than the ugly shit on the other side of his neck. Watched as a drop of water ran down his skin where he pressed with his fingers. Wondered if she’d be up for more tonight but shook his head quickly. The blood. _She’s fuckin’ bleedin’, ya horny fuckin’ bastard._ Turning off the water, he flicked his hands into the sink, swinging the door open and calling out her name through the dark apartment. The bright light of the bathroom spilled into the main room and he pulled on his briefs, watching as she materialized from the darkness, the pale robe illuminating her silhouette in the moonlight behind her.

“You okay?” she asked, walking over to him, a glass of water in her hand which she stretched out to him. He smiled softly, taking the glass from her hand when she’d reached him, finding the imprint of her lips along the rim and taking a drink over the same spot. Last time he’d done that, he hadn’t even kissed her, let alone—he swallowed, reaching a damp hand out to run his thumb along her jaw. She smiled, pulling back slightly, “you’re wet,” she said, scrunching up her nose lightly. _Pfft, fuckin’ cute._ He turned his torso away from her slightly to lean behind him and place the glass on the corner of the sink beside the soap, reaching his other hand out to her, touching her elbow and pulling her into the bright room.

He closed the toilet seat and sat down, pulling her to stand between his legs. “Tora? What are you—” her breath caught as he ran his palms up the sides of her thighs, his thumbs catching on the hem of the robe. He looked up at her, a silent question, waited as she tilted her head, nodding, before he ran his hands further up her body, fingers catching in the tie around her waist. He glanced up at her again, holding her curious gaze as he pulled on one end, gently tugging the knot loose until the robe fell open. He inhaled sharply at seeing her in the bright light. Sweet fuck, he knew she was beautiful, but the darkness of the bedroom hadn’t done her justice. Tora slowly pulled the material further open, watching her blush spread down her throat, her chest, as his eyes roamed up and down her bare body.

“Goddamn, sweetheart,” he murmured, wrapping his palms up and around the backs of her thighs until he cupped her ass. He leaned forward and pressed his lips to the swell just below her belly button, couldn’t help it as his tongue slipped between his teeth and against her skin. His cock stiffened against his leg as his fingers squeezed her. He swallowed hard as he felt her hands stroke through his hair, closing his eyes to her touch as Poppy gently tugged the strawberry tie from the knot. He bit back a groan as she ran her fingers through from his scalp to the ends, tingles rushing from her fingers down his spine and straight to his core—fuck, he really loved her hands on him, the feeling of her fingers in his hair. Couldn’t help but think how no one had ever touched him like that. She combed against his scalp for a few moments as he breathed deeply, before she gently pulled his hair up into a twist on top of his head. He waited, breathing against her torso until he felt her hands still, having finished securing the strawberry back in his hair, before he slowly pulled his face away from her skin, angling his head to look down at the space between her legs.

He heard her gasp his name softly as he brought a hand around to run up the inside of her thigh. When he pulled it back from between her legs, his fingers were slick with slightly coagulated blood. _Fuck_. He looked up at her, “Bobby…”

She looked down at his fingers, eyes widening as she blushed fiercely. “Oh, oh shoot,” she said softly, quickly reaching over him to grab the toilet paper, “sorry, did I bleed on you?” Her tits swung against his face and he brought his dry hand up to cup her waist as he inhaled sharply, his cock jumping in excitement at her movements.

“Shit, Bobby,” he squeezed her waist slightly until she stilled, looking down at him and biting her lip between her teeth around a smile at whatever expression was on his face.

“Sorry,” she murmured, leaning back away from him with a wad of toilet paper in her hand that she quickly swiped between her legs.

He shook his head as though from a daze, “Bobby, don’t ever apologize for ya tits in my face,” he said weakly, smirking up at her as she rolled her eyes lightly, “anytime, sweetheart,” he breathed. “And don’t apologize for this either,” he said, wrapping his hand over her wrist so that she’d stop swiping at the blood. “Did I hurt ya, Bobby,” his voice cracked halfway through the question as his eyes searched her face for signs of pain, his thumb rubbing gently on the back of her hand.

He watched as her eyes widened in shock, shaking her head quickly. “ _No_ , it’s—” she broke off, licking her lips as she thought, “it happens sometimes the first time,” she finally said around a shrug. Poppy swallowed, glancing away from his face. “Ju—my ex was always grossed out by, um…” she trailed off and Tora felt his eyes harden, his jaw tighten at the mention of that asshole. So, what, he’d shamed Bobby over her porn _and_ her body? He was gonna find this fucker and kill him. He felt her fingers on his jaw a moment later, “hey,” her eyebrows pulled together. “I can clean up, sorry if I got any on you…” Tora frowned, did she think _he_ was grossed out?

“Told ya,” he murmured, reaching up with the hand on her waist to touch her chin, gently guiding her face down to look at him. “Don’t ever apologize for ya body. Shit,” he said, “it’s just blood, Bobby.” His heart nearly broke at how wide her eyes had grown. He opened his mouth, almost told her that he’d seen a lot more blood than this, that there’d been times he’d needed to shower four or five times just to get it all off, standing in the tub until the water ran clear. Snapped his teeth shut immediately, catching himself. _Don’t fuckin’ tell her that, ya stupid fuck_. Shit, how’d she gotten past his mask, his guard so fuckin’ easy? He swallowed, sighing lowly as he brought his hand back down to her waist, rubbing his thumb along her skin. “We need something damp, Bobby,” he said, nodding toward the wad of toilet paper in her hand, “s’not gonna work.” She frowned slightly, looking down at it. “Ya got a washcloth?”

Her eyebrows raised slightly in question at what he was implying with the word _we_ , and he nodded softly before she turned in his arms, reaching to the rack behind her, removing the hand towel. When she rotated back to face him, he brought his hand up to take it from her, twisting slightly to turn on the warm water in the sink, soaking the cloth and squeezing out the excess water one-handed as she watched silently. He nodded his head toward her feet, squeezing her side as he said, “spread ya feet a little wider, Bobby.” He waited until she’d shifted between his legs, her body lowering slightly, before he brought the cloth between her legs. Her breath hitched at the touch and he looked up at her, “too hot?”

“Mm-mmm,” she shook her head, watching him with wide eyes as he nodded and turned his attention back to the thatch of curls between her legs, wiping the cloth gently along her inner thighs. When his hand brushed the folds at her center, she gasped softly, her hands coming up to rest on his shoulders as she met his eyes. His hand stilled against her, dragging his gaze around her face before settling on her lips.

“Bobby…”

She slid her hands down to his biceps then back up along his neck, taking a step closer to him, and leaning toward him as his head fell back. Her lips were gentle on his, soft presses as her thighs squeezed his hand. She pulled away from him a moment later, letting her hands slip down his arms as she stepped back, her fingers finding his as she guided him into a standing position, reaching toward the light switch. “Think you got it all,” she murmured. He hadn’t, but he let her lead him back through the darkness and to her kitchen anyway. Would follow her any-fuckin’-where. She hadn’t bothered to tie the robe shut again, and Tora watched as the thin material fluttered around her body as she walked, looked almost like wings, he thought, silvery wings in the light of the moon through her balcony door. A goddamn angel.

When they’d reached the kitchen, she let go of his hand, bending over to retrieve his bag from the floor. Tora’s heart flew to his throat as he watched the robe slowly rise up her ass, inhaling sharply as he glimpsed the dark shadow between her legs. “So,” she said turning around to hand him the strap, glancing down to the gun still visible from the mesh. Tora closed the flap, putting the weapon out of sight so she at least wouldn’t have to look at it. He wasn’t sure how comfortable she really was with it being in her home— _more worried about the cigarettes_ , she’d said. But that sure as shit didn’t mean she’d like the idea of a gun at her place. “How does the mafia thing work?” she asked lightly, tilting her head at him as she reached a hand out to skim her fingers over the tops of the strawberry plants beside the sink. “You like, boss level thug? Or just like,” she paused, laughing slightly, “a driver or something?”

He felt his lips part in surprise, his eyebrows rise slightly. How was she being so… _casual_ about it? Did it really not fuckin’ bother her? She probably didn’t really understand what it meant, for him to be in the clan. Fuck if he was gonna tell her, though. He narrowed his eyes at her, standing up straighter as he slung the bag over his shoulder and folding his arms across his chest. He widened his stance and angled his head back, looking down at her with a cocked eyebrow, a smirk, “what d’ya think, sweetheart.” Vague—she didn’t need to know the fuck his role really was—the boss’s personal fuckin’ muscle—the Balthuman fist, the fuckin’ Tiger of Ares Street.

 _Pfft, pfft_ , she giggled behind her hand, “mmm, you’re right,” she said, biting her lip against a smirk, clearly about to say some feisty shit. His ballsy fuckin’ Bobby. “You’d have to be able to _park_ if you—” As soon as the words registered, Tora dropped the bag to the floor, lunging at her, scooping her up against his chest and whirling her around as she laughed, tossing her over his shoulder, one hand gripping her back and the other running from the back of her knee up her thigh to her ass. He turned his head, lightly nipping her side through her robe as her chest heaved against him with her laughter, fuck he wanted her, wanted to be inside her again, their bodies joined, wanted to finish what they’d started a couple hours ago when she’d first locked him out of his own goddamned car—for the _second_ time. “Fuckin’ feisty, Bobby,” he murmured against her, giving her another nip as she squirmed against him. She squeaked in surprise as he smacked her ass once, his hand rubbing the spot firmly as he squatted down to the floor, removing his hand from her leg to grab the bag before he stood back up, striding toward the living room.

“Tora,” she breathed as he set the bag down on the couch, flipping the top open and digging out the second condom from the mesh pocket. His heart was thumping against his ribs so fuckin’ loud—hadn’t expected to be able to use one let alone two of the fuckin’ things tonight. Fred’s, the kitchen floor, it all seemed so long ago. How did time speed and slow all at once with her?

“How many times I gotta tell ya, sweetheart,” he said lowly, placing the corner of the gold packet between his front teeth, and bringing his palm back to her hamstring, stroking her leg from the back of her knee up to the dip where her ass swelled. “Gonna get burned.”

“Thought it was _bit_ ,” she breathed as he lifted the hem of her robe, flipping it up over his forearm that wrapped around her back. He slid his hand from her lower back down and over the space between her cheeks, parting his fingers so that his middle and index rubbed along one side of her outer lips, his pinky and ring fingers on the other side, palm cupping the top of her mound, pressing firmly. “Not bur— _oooh_ ,” her words broke off into a moan against his back as he felt her drop her forehead against his shoulder blade, her fingers scrabbling at his lower back, twitching with each of his strokes.

“What was that, Bobby?” he grinned around the condom, nuzzling his nose against the bare skin of her side, just beneath the bunch of fabric where the robe flipped up over his arm, inhaling deeply. Fuck, he was already so goddamn hard. He breathed hard around the condom, listening to the sound of her as he rubbed her lips—so fuckin’ wet, needed to be inside her. As he felt Poppy’s mouth open hot on his back, he groaned, rearranging his hand to press his middle and ring fingers together before rubbing them against her entrance, slicking between her folds once, twice, three times before slipping inside her slowly, burying himself to his knuckles. He groaned, had been about to take her into the bedroom but it was too fuckin’ far away—couldn’t wait any longer as he listened to her moans, louder now as he plunged his fingers slowly out then back inside her, panting around the foil in his teeth as her walls clenched around him, her thumbs digging into the muscles of his back, her nails sending tingles up his spine. “Hold on, sweetheart,” he growled, shifting her so that she slid back down around his torso, her legs immediately wrapping around his waist as she clung to his shoulders, his cock pressing into her ass.

She bit her lip around a grin when she saw the packet in his teeth. “Again?” she asked, trying to suppress her smile, the hope in her voice. He almost frowned at the look in her eyes—like she hadn’t expected him to want this again, to want her. Like she hadn’t believed him when he’d called her fuckin’ amazing. He wondered for a moment if it had anything to do with the motherfucker she’d been with before but stopped the thought—no way was he lettin’ that asshole into their bubble.

“Bobby,” he groaned as she pressed her lips to his throat. Tora sat back slowly against the couch, shifting her legs so that she was kneeling on either side of his hips. He dropped the condom on the couch beside them, reaching up to grab one of her hands from around her neck, bringing her palm down to his cock where it pressed frantically against the thin fabric of his briefs. “Ya see what ya do to me? Shit, sweetheart,” he brought his other hand up from her hip to cup her jaw until she looked at him. _I love ya_ , he tried to convey his feelings in the look he gave her, still couldn’t speak the words. Fuck, it was too soon anyway. Way too fuckin’ soon—didn’t wanna scare her the fuck away. “Can barely fuckin’ think straight around ya,” he finally said. It was true—he’d never met anyone before who so fully, so fuckin’ completely overwhelmed his focus, his senses, his ability to concentrate on anything else. Anything but her.

At his words, or maybe at whatever she saw in his expression, a slow smile spread across her face. She leaned forward, pressing herself to his torso, her hands cupping his temples as she kissed his forehead. He could feel her smile against his skin as he breathed in the scent of her—different now—a musky mix of the condom, cum and blood, a slight tang of their combined sweat dried on her skin, the faint bitterness of his cigarettes, and still under it all, the sweet scent of her shampoo clinging to the soft waves of her hair that spilled like a curtain around their faces, over their shoulders. She smelled thoroughly well-loved—the force of the knowledge that _he’d_ been the cause practically pushing the breath straight from his lungs. And he’d thought she’d smelled good before.

She moved her head, kissing along the side of his face, a trail down his cheekbone as he ran his palms down the length of her body over the silky fabric of the robe, and when he reached her ass, slid his fingers back up beneath the cloth until his hands cupped the small of her back, drawing her closer against him as her lips found his in the darkness of the room. Her thumbs rubbed along his eyebrows as she kissed him, and Tora let himself close his eyes to her touch. Moments ago, he’d wanted to bend her over the couch, plunge into her from behind, find out how hard she could really take it, and now…fuck, they had time for that later, some other time. He found himself hoping again that they had more time. If he had any say over it, they’d get the chance to fuck all over her apartment and anywhere else she wanted. But tonight, in the dim quiet of her warm home, the plants still sitting on her counter, the blood of her first time still dried against his thigh, fuck—he just wanted to hold her, be surrounded by her. Needed to see her face, kiss her, feel the moans in her throat against his lips. Wanted to feel the sweat of her chest against his as they moved together, their bodies joined, rocking in rhythm to each other.

He ran his tongue along her lower lip, along her teeth as she parted to him until their tongues met in the breath of space between their open mouths. As she brought her hands down his neck to his shoulders, he skimmed up her bare back, fingers following the gentle slope of her spine as she arched into him, until he hooked around the top of the robe, slowly drawing it down her body until it slipped from his hands, fluttering to the floor where he felt it skim his shins, resting in a pool of silk at his feet. Tora leaned forward slightly, his hands rubbing slow circles from her shoulder blades to the small of her back as he kissed his way down her throat, tongue trailing to circle one of her nipples as he gently sucked her between his teeth. Poppy breathed a moan as she let her head fall against his shoulder, her hips rocking slowly against his, the fabric of his briefs rubbing between them until he couldn’t take it any longer. “Poppylan,” he husked, voice barely above a whisper above the sounds of their breathing mingling in the air around them, “please,” he swallowed, feeling her soft nods against his neck as her hands skimmed down his biceps and ribs, his abdominal muscles contracting at her feather-light touches as he inhaled deeply against her hair. A moment later, she’d pulled him from the cotton fabric, pumping slowly as she dipped her other hand in the small gap of space between their bodies to fist gently around the base of his cock.

Tora moaned, letting his head drop back onto the couch cushion as his hands fell to the soft flesh where her hips flared, fingers squeezing and releasing her reflexively as he felt her lips, her tongue on the center of his throat. He rocked his hips up into her hands a couple times, groaning at the gentle give of her thighs as they rubbed softly against his quads. Fuck, he loved the feel of her. He dropped his hands down her legs, fingers holding the bottoms of her feet as his thumbs rubbed her ankles before reaching one hand out blindly to find the condom that had fallen into the dip between his ass and the couch. He held it in his fist, panting lightly as Poppy thumbed him, swiping the precum around the dip between his head and shaft. “Shit, Poppy,” he moaned, his breath shuddering as she leaned forward, the stiff peaks of her nipples rubbing lightly against the thin layer of sweat along his chest, could feel the goosebumps spread along his torso, up his neck as she breathed hot against his throat. “Sweetheart,” his voice broke off into a whisper on the last syllable as he felt her lower hand dip beneath the waistband of his briefs to cup his balls, her teeth skimming the side of his neck, mimicking the way he’d marked her throat, her chest earlier. Little white lights flashed along his eyelids as the sensation of her gentle sucking as she cradled his balls, stretching the skin slightly between her fingers and thumb. If he hadn’t just come, he sure as shit already would’ve—the tension coiling in his groin as she stroked him. Didn’t want to come just yet, though—fuck, could barely think.

He opened his eyes to her ceiling and felt his lids almost immediately flutter shut as she sucked his skin between her teeth again. Shit, she was gonna make him come before they could even use the goddamn condom. He realized a moment later what was causing the sharp feel in his hand: the little teeth along the edge of the foil—his fist squeezing and releasing around the little packet. Tora brought his fingers up to her wrist, stilling her movements on his shaft as he rasped her name again, his voice low, hoarse. Heavy with need. Sounded fuckin’ desperate, how’d she always manage to do that? She must have felt the condom in his hand, pressed against her wrist, understood what he was asking, because she brought her other hand up from where it’d been tucked inside his briefs between his thighs, and gently opened his fist, withdrawing the condom from the heated flesh of his palm. She glanced up at him, meeting his eyes, his gaze hooded from where his head rested against the top of the cushion.

She licked her lips once, turning her focus to the wrapper which she turned over in her hands a couple of times, a look of worry passing over her face, maybe uncertainty? He watched her, taking deep breaths to try to slow his heartrate, bringing his hands up to cup the backs of hers. She paused her movements, letting his fingers cover hers as he pinched the foil, tearing it gently, just enough so there was a small opening before he released her, bringing one of his hands to the back of her neck, his fingers tangling in the hair at the nape of her neck as he drew her lips to his. A wet kiss, tender. Fuck, she was everything. His other hand skimmed along her leg, thumb rubbing her thigh and fingers dimpling her skin. She pulled away from him a moment later, her lips skimming the tip of his nose before she turned her attention back to the condom. She pulled it out gently, her eyes widening when she touched it. He huffed a laugh through his nose as her eyes met his.

“What?” she asked softly, turning the condom over with her fingertips as he took the wrapper and placed it beside them on the couch.

“Nothin’, sweetheart. Ya just cute,” he smiled as her nose wrinkled.

“Didn’t know it’d be so slimy,” she paused as he laughed softly, his abdominal muscles rippling under her hands which had fallen against him, balled into loose fists as she gripped the condom between her thumbs and index fingers like she was afraid it might slip away from her.

“They don’t jump, Bobby,” he said, smirking as he brought his hand down from her neck, reaching to lift her hands. “Like this,” he said, flipping the condom over in her grasp and moving her fingers, showing her where to grasp the tip, “and then ya roll.”

“And then you roll,” she repeated faintly as he watched her lower the condom to his cock, her brows drawn together as she blew a strand of hair from her face, intently focused on the small movements of her hands as she sheathed his length in the thin latex. He couldn’t help but smile, _goddamn, how was she so fuckin’ cute_ , he thought as he brushed the hair from her face, tucking it back behind her ear. His gaze roamed over the soft curves of her body, _cute and fuckin’ sexy_ , he thought again, eyeing the way the soft light caught the dimples of her thighs, the silvery stretchmarks that bloomed across her hips. Watched as she pulled her hands back, wiping her fingers on her legs and leaving streaks of lube that shone on her skin in the moonlight.

She breathed out softly, looking down at the space between them. Tora waited a moment, but when it seemed like she wasn’t sure what to do next, he ran his hands up from her knees where they pressed into either side of his ass, gripping her waist and encouraging her to lift up. He leaned forward, reaching from behind her to grip his base through her legs, holding himself firm as she gripped his shoulders, her eyes boring into his as she exhaled, sinking down against him until he rested at her entrance. Tora gulped, biting back a groan at the feel of her warmth against his head, the hot slick of her against his fingers, and then she was relaxing onto him, her walls enveloping his cock in tight heat. _Fuck_ , he fought the urge to buck up into her as he moaned her name, eyes rolling back, his hands rubbing her ass insistently. Shit, he needed her to move, so fuckin’ bad, needed to feel her ride him, use him for her pleasure. He raised his head back up to look at her, desperate to see her body move against his. She settled her arms around his neck, pressing her chest against his and breathing heavily against his neck as she finally, slowly shifted her weight back up, then down.

The press of her tits, her nipples, hard against his chest, her mouth so fuckin’ wet on his as she kissed him, moaning against his lips as he skimmed his hands up her body, rubbing his thumbs along the undersides of her breasts then back down to cup her ass, helping her movements, guiding her as she developed a slow rhythm, rocking against him, with him. Both of them, moving together, bodies joined, pressed together as one against the couch, the friction of the cushions on his back, his bare ass where his briefs dug into him. Didn’t fuckin’ care, only barely registered the sensation as Poppy rode him, hesitant but growing more confident in her movements as he moved his lips down her jaw, along her neck until he was sucking the skin of her shoulder, one hand coming up to palm her tit as she leaned her head back. Could feel the ends of her hair brushing his knees, the sensation sending shivers down his shins. He circled one of her wrists, drawing her hand between their bodies and pressing her fingers to her mound, and she drew her head up to look at him, seeming to understand as he nodded. “Touch yaself, Bobby,” he murmured. As he felt her fingers begin to move on her clit, he released her, his abdomen spasming at the feel of her knuckles rubbing against his trail of hair.

She moaned his name on an exhale as he gripped her hips firmly, moving her against him as he drew one of her tits into his mouth, his tongue sloppy against her nipple as he felt her breath hitch in her chest. Shit, could feel the tension building, building at his center. _Not yet_ , he squeezed his eyes shut, _not yet_. Had to hang on, _just a little longer, little longer_. Poppy, breathing heavy, his name rolling from her tongue as he felt her walls begin to clench around him, her thighs trembling as she lost the rhythm. He gripped her harder, taking over as she came, the fingers of her free hand tangling in his hair as she bent her head forward, panting hot against his shoulder. A moment later, he felt his own orgasm rush over him, exhaling hard against her shoulder as he pulsed inside her, his hands slowing against her hips until they were just barely rocking into each other, his palms rubbing up and down her spine, fingers catching lightly in her hair where it spilled down her back. The sweet scent of her shampoo all around, mingling with their sweat, the latex of the condom.

Tora kissed her shoulder, her neck, pressed his lips against her cheek once before she lifted her head to catch his mouth with hers, gentle. So fuckin’ soft. His Bobby, still so warm around his softening cock. He should probably move, the cum was gonna make a mess if it leaked from the condom, but he just couldn’t bring himself to break away from her, wanted to stay here for the rest of his life.

“Didn’t hurt that time,” she murmured against his lips, pulling back slightly to look at him.

He smiled, tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear, “good. Don’t wanna hurt ya.”

She smiled back at him, one of her fingers tracing lightly over his shoulder where he had a feeling he’d find small bruises from her teeth in the morning. “Except biting,” she smirked.

“ _Pfft_ , don’t want that to hurt either, Bobby,” he said, frowning slightly.

“Mmm,” she hummed as his cock slipped from her, running her fingers up to smooth his brow, “doesn’t hurt.” She met his eyes and he smirked as she continued shyly, “feels good.” She drew her hands over the tattoos on his chest then, “stay?”

Tora smiled, nodded. Kissed her once before she was pushing up off his shoulders, laughing softly at the feel of the tip of the condom as it dragged out of her. _Shit_ , he realized looking down at it as Poppy wove her fingers through his, leading him up off the couch. It’d been the last one—he’d definitely need to buy more as soon as fuckin’ possible. The thought made him smile to himself—never would’ve believed it if someone had told him two weeks ago where he’d be now. Tora padded over to her bathroom, eyes well-adjusted to the darkness by now, deciding to leave the light off as he removed the condom and cleaned himself off. His briefs were wet with spilled cum and lube—Tora shucked them and considered for a moment whether he should dig out a fresh pair from his bag, deciding against it a moment later. If it seemed like she minded, he could always go put a pair on, and he had a feeling she wouldn’t mind. Besides, he was looking forward to holding her against him, no undies. _Pfft_.

When he got back to her room, Poppy was moving around the bed. Still naked, he noticed with a smirk. The hell was she doin’ though?

When she noticed him standing by the archway, she shrugged. “Made a bit of a mess,” she said lightly as she bundled the fabric into a wad, tossing it into a basket near her mirror. “You want to start putting the sheets on? I’m just gonna treat this real quick so the stain doesn’t set,” she said picking up the basket and walking past him as she nodded at a pile of fabric beside the bed. Tora swallowed, watching as she walked away before tentatively picking up the sheets. Shit, the fuck was it so big? Quincey’d been the one to get his mattress all set up when he’d gotten his apartment. Hadn’t made the thing since. He turned the material around in his hands, shaking it out over the bed, but a separate sheet fell out at his movements. _Fuck, there were two?_ He pulled the other sheet back over to him, tossing it on the floor as he focused on spreading the first one over the bed. Bobby seemed like the type to like a neat-lookin’ bed. He spread his palms over the surface, grimacing at the makeshift job. _Fuck_ , he thought. They were gonna sleep—didn’t have to look perfect, right? It was dark anyway, maybe she wouldn’t notice. He turned his attention to the fabric on the floor, lifting it and shaking it out—but the corners of it were all wrong, bunched and shit. When he put it on the bed the sheet wouldn’t lie flat. The fuck was the point of it if it kept scrunching back up toward the center of the fuckin’ bed? He huffed through his nose trying to spread it out again, fists balling in the fabric. Fuck, maybe they could sleep on the couch again? No, he thought. She had a goddamned bed—wouldn’t want to sleep on the fuckin’ couch. As he attempted to smooth the sheet flat again, he heard her walk back into the room.

“Oh, Tora, no,” she said softly around a laugh as she took the fuckin’ circle-lookin’ sheet from his hands. “This one goes on the bottom,” she explained, glancing up at him, frowning at his expression. “How do you make _your_ bed?”

He looked away from her, pulling the flat sheet off the bed, not really understanding how the fuck she planned to make the other one work, but trusting she knew better than he did. He shrugged, seeing that she was still looking at him, waiting for an answer. “I dunno, Bobby,” he said, running a hand up to his hair, knuckles hitting the plastic strawberry as he sighed, “just don’t know the fuck’s wrong with that one,” he said, motioning toward the sheet in her hands. “Ya judgin’ again?” he asked, hoping she’d take the bait, not dwell on the idea that he didn’t know how to make a fuckin’ bed.

She seemed to accept that answer, because a moment later she was crawling up onto the bed, her bare ass shaking in the air as Tora swallowed a groan at the sight of her, “I guess some people don’t use fitted sheets,” she said, turning back to look at him as she stretched the scrunched edge between her hands. She nodded at him to grab the corner at the end of the bed, and when he had, she leaned over her corner, “just tuck, and then you roll,” she said, repeating his words back to him. _Pfft, pfft_ , he snorted, rolling his eyes lightly. He mimicked her movements along his end of the bed, murmuring “tuck and then ya roll,” stooping to tuck the sheet under the mattress and feeling his brows raise in surprise when the thing actually fuckin’ fit. _Huh, no shit_. He turned to see her shrugging as she spread the other sheet on top of the first one, “I mean, it’s definitely not the _right way_ to make the bed, but it is _a way_ , I guess,” she said, glancing up at him with a smirk. Fuckin’ feisty hamster.

“Well, maybe ya’ll have to come show me exactly how I’m fuckin’ it up,” he murmured before he realized what he was saying. _Shit, no_. He couldn’t bring her to his place. Didn’t need her seein’ just how sad his shit life was—fuck. Somehow he didn’t think she’d be very impressed by a mattress on the fuckin’ floor of a concrete room. But her eyes had lit up at his words. She didn’t have to say anything for him to know she wasn’t gonna forget his offer anytime soon. _Ya goddamned motherfuckin’ idiot._

Poppy smiled, but didn’t say anything, instead pointing at the pillows and blanket piled behind him. He nodded, tossing the pillows up toward her at the head of the bed, “get in sweetheart,” he said, grabbing the blanket and flapping it up over her as she quickly crawled under the sheet. A moment later, she was flipping the blanket back for him, holding out her hand to him as she sank back against the pillows. As Tora crawled in beside her—Poppy’s arm immediately wrapping his torso, her foot hooking around his calf, her curls pressing against his hip, still damp with sex—he wondered if he’d ever get used to the newness of it all. The softness of the mattress against his back, of her body relaxing into his, both of them sinking under the blankets as his arm circled her, palm on her hip, pulling her closer as his other hand stroked her hair, her head against his chest. She reached up with the hand around his side, swiping firmly against his forehead a couple times before circling back around him, squeezing tight. “Sweet dreams, Tor,” she whispered.

“Night, Bob,” he pressed his lips to her hair, listening as her breathing evened out, eventually slowing into soft snores, her breath warm against his skin. He clenched his jaw, inhaling the smell of her as his eyes lost focus on a spot of her ceiling above the foot of the bed—the glow-in-the-dark stars above her bed hazy in his peripherals.

 _Ever dye yours blue?_ He flicked his eyes to the silhouettes of the tallest branches across the street beyond her window, nearly black against the moon as it dragged down the sky behind the tree line. He’d ask her in the morning—didn’t know how, but he needed to find out if she knew Goliath. Needed to know if there was a reason to worry. If she really was the girl he’d met all those years ago, maybe she’d seen his brother through the window of the gas station…had the fucker had blue hair then? Tora swallowed, frowning at the trees. It didn’t make sense, none of it made any fuckin’ sense. He closed his eyes for a moment, focusing on the sound of her breathing before he heard something buzzing—not the fridge. He opened his eyes to the dim blue glow coming from the spot where his jeans lay on the floor. _Fuck_ , when was the last time he’d checked his phone? And what time was it anyway? Tora looked back down at Bobby, swallowing before his eyes flicked back across the room, watching as the glow suddenly died, plunging the room back into darkness, his eyesight cloudy with the hazy afterglow, and the clan encroaching along the edge of his thoughts as his eyes drifted shut. A speck of movement flitting across the sky above the moon, the last thing he saw before he fell asleep, both feet tucked under the covers beside Bobby.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, it’s a slight detour from the mystery but like…there was still one more condom, how could they *not* use it?
> 
> Thank you thank you thank you for reading this story and for your sweet comments—they keep me going!
> 
> Ch. 24: wonder who was texting Tora so late at night…


	24. Bull

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s a Tuesday and Poppy has to go to work. Tora’s sure there’s something wrong with his phone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you came for the fluff, this one’s for you. *pours one out*
> 
> If you came for the angst…well, you’ll see. 
> 
> As always, characters belong to the real MVP Lilydusk, brilliant creator of Midnight Poppy Land. Support her on Patreon! https://www.patreon.com/lilydusk

**Chapter 24**

Tora inhaled deeply, nuzzling further against the soft pillow—smelled like his Bobby. Not a pillow—movement under his face. He blinked his eyes open slowly against the gray morning light of the room, so warm, his legs pressed against smooth skin, the sound of rain soft against the window behind him. _Bobby_. His cheek against her chest—he groaned as she moved against him, wrapping his arms tight around her waist. Fuck, she smelled good—sweet and musky, a combination of the lingering scent of sex mixed with sleep that clung to her skin. Dizzying.

“Mmmm,” she hummed, a purr against his ear as he slipped one of his hands down to palm her bare ass. “Morning to you, too,” she murmured against the top of his head. Somehow, he’d ended up lower than her on the bed, his legs curled around her, one of her thighs tucked between his, resting against his balls, his cock pressing into the flesh of her leg. He huffed a laugh, holy shit, his throat was dry. Tora coughed slightly as she was pressed her tits flush against his face, reaching with one arm for something behind him, over his head.

“Mmmm, Bobby,” he groaned, his palms squeezing her as he pushed his face further into the swell of her chest, loving the feel of her laughter against him.

“Tora,” she breathed,” as the hand on her ass moved lower, fingers cupping around her inner thigh, “m’just trying to reach the glass,” she said. He could feel her stretch in his arms toward the nightstand as he nuzzled his nose against her skin, inhaling deeply. “The water,” she gasped as his tongue dipped between her tits, “your cough.” He felt her body relax against his a moment later, clearly realizing the water was a lost fuckin’ cause. Didn’t want it anyway, fuck. He took another deep breath, pressing his lips to her bare skin.

“Got everythin’ I need right here, Bobby,” he husked, the fingers between her thighs moving higher, skimming against her outer lips as he rocked his hips once, then a second time, against her. She laughed again and he groaned, tightening his arms around her and rolling onto his back, bringing her with him so that she rested on top of him, her forearms pressing into the mattress above his head as her tits settled against his face. He bent his knees under the covers, letting his legs fall open as one hand rubbed up and down her ass, the other circling her back firmly. The slight friction of the sheets felt good against his cock which had hardened at the feel of her softness, her desire for him first thing in the morning, matched only by his own for her.

“Mmm,” she moaned, letting herself collapse more fully against him, her arms pulling together as her fingers burrowed in his hair along his scalp, her mouth pressing kisses to the top of his head as he felt her press her ass down against his fingers. _Holy sweet fuck_ , if he could stay here the rest of his life he fuckin’ would. In a goddamn heartbeat, no contest.

“Were ya watchin’ me sleep again, Bobby?” he murmured against her chest, dipping his fingers into the space between her legs, pressing firmly on her inner thigh before running his hand back up over the swell of her ass, squeezing her curves. Loved touching her, the feel of her body under his hands.

Tora brought the hand on her back down around to her front, palming her tit, bringing her nipple to his mouth as he hummed against her skin. Could feel her growing wet, slick against his lower abdomen as she moved slowly against him, grinding her hips slightly back and forth against his skin, her knees drawn up against his ribs. Fuck, he thought. He could sure as fuck get used to this kind of wake up. He felt her shake her head against the top of his as he bucked up once, heels pressing into the mattress.

“S’okay if ya were, sweetheart,” he murmured around her nipple, sucking lightly before he continued with a smirk, “know ya can’t get enough of me.” He felt her laugh against him, tits so soft against his face.

“Tora,” she breathed, sliding herself down his body as he loosened his grip on her, hands skimming up along her spine as she drew her face over his, leaning down to press her lips to his before trailing a couple up his cheekbone.

“Yeah, Bobby,” he murmured, his hands stroking down her back to her ass, squeezing gently before running back up to her shoulder blades.

“I don’t have any condoms,” she whispered against the hair by his ear.

Tora closed his eyes, attempting to swallow a low groan that still managed to loose its way up from his chest. She laughed against him, and then his eyes flew open as he felt her grind her hips against his, rubbing her wet folds against his cock. He dug his head back into the mattress at the sensation, lips falling open— _fuuuuck_ , he’d never felt anything like it. Ever—her mouth had _nothin’_ on her wet core, rubbing, grinding slick against him, _sweet_ _everlovin’_ _fuck_. He could feel the precum already leaking from him as she drew his head along her center, skimming over her entrance. “Sweet fuck, Bobby,” Tora gripped her ass firmly, encouraging her movements as he lifted his head to her neck, sucking the thin skin along her throat between his teeth on a low groan as he felt heat coiling in his groin. She was gonna make him come without even fuckin’ tryin’—first thing in the fuckin’ morning. _Sweet fuck_ , he brought one hand to the back of her thigh, gripping her tightly as his other hand stilled the roll of her hips against his. “Bobby,” his breath caught in his throat as she kissed along his jaw, nipping his chin lightly.

“Mmm?”

“Bobby, if ya don’t stop,” he panted as she squirmed in his grip, her folds hot and slick against him, “if ya…fuuuck,” his fingers on her hip loosened as she moaned against his throat, rubbing herself along his shaft. “Shiiiiiiit,” his eyes slipped closed as she sucked along his throat, rolling her hips again. He bucked up against her once, the head of his cock sliding against her entrance again—holy fuck she was so goddamn wet, he just wanted to bury himself in her, wondered what the fuck that’d feel like if just slicking against her was drivin’ him up the fuckin’ wall. He moaned her name as she tugged at his hair, “shit, Bobby,” he panted, finally finding the words, “gonna come if ya don’t stop.”

“Don’t wanna stop,” she breathed, her nails scraping against his scalp, her mouth open, so hot and wet on his neck.

 _Well, fuck_ , he didn’t wanna fuckin’ stop either. He dug his heels into the bed, bringing an arm up to brace along her spine as he flipped her onto her back, grinning at her gasp of surprise. He bent one of her knees up, pressing his pec against the bottom of her foot as he leaned forward, one of his hands rubbing along her center as his other circled her ankle, his thumb stroking the top of her foot as he breathed heavily, his other thumb dragging from her entrance up to her clit where he pressed against her in slow circles. She arched against him, her foot digging into his chest as she moaned, one of her hands cupping her tit, her fingers scissoring slow around her nipple.

He closed his eyes at the sight of her spread for him as she pleasured herself in the cool morning light, the gentle patter of the rain on the glass over the wet movements of his hand as he fingered her—shit, he was gonna fuckin’ come before _she_ did. His head fell forward over her foot as he slipped a finger inside her. Sweet fuck she felt tighter, wetter than she had last night but that wasn’t fuckin’ possible, was it? Was it cause of the way her leg was bent up? Should definitely try that again when he was inside her. Would she always feel this way? He groaned as his name spilled from her lips, slipping another finger inside her as his thumbs continued to rub her foot, her clit. As he felt her thighs begin to tremble, her breath hitching in her chest, he brought his hand down from her ankle, stroking his balls once before pumping himself firmly. Fuck, he just wanted to be inside her, wanted to experience her without a fuckin’ condom. Shit, maybe they should talk about that, what that’d mean for them, he thought vaguely as heat licked from his groin up his abdomen, the sound of her around his fingers, the feel of her pulsing too much to fuckin’ bear as he came against the back of her thigh, his cum shooting out once, twice, three times as his hands stilled.

Tora collapsed back onto his heels, Bobby’s foot smacking his quad at his sudden movement—the surprise of it making them both laugh.

“Fuck, Bobby,” he said finally. “Ya gonna be the death of me,” he murmured, gripping her ankle and bending forward to press a kiss to her leg. “Fuckin’ insatiable.”

He watched her blush as he rubbed his thumb along the arch of her foot. “Sor—”

“Oh, absolutely _the fuck_ not,” he cut her off, pushing her foot from his lap and lunging across the bed until he held his weight above her, her legs splayed around his hips, “don’t ya _dare_ apologize, Bobby,” he whispered harshly against her throat, pressing kisses to her skin. “I want ya day and night. Told ya, can’t fuckin’ think straight around ya.”

“Tora,” she gasped around a soft laugh as she quickly lifted her leg, bending her knee and hooking her foot around the back of his thigh where he felt his cum slipping between them, “we just changed the sheets.”

“Mmm,” he nuzzled his nose against her neck, drinking the scent of her, letting it go straight to his head. Fuckin’ intoxicating. “Fuck ‘em. I’ll buy ya new ones,” he murmured, loving the feel of her soft laughs against him. “Fuck, Bobby,” he lifted his head to look at her, “can’t get enough of ya, sweetheart.”

She bit her lip around a smile before turning her head to face him, pecking him on the lips, “gotta wipe off,” she said, tapping his bicep and nudging her foot against his ass until he pressed up on the bed with a sigh, pushing off of her. As he detangled the covers from around his feet, he realized with a jolt that he’d slept through the night—hadn’t even needed a foot on the floor. Hell, he’d woken up curled around her, his fuckin’ back to the door. When was the last time _that’d_ happened? When he’d extricated himself from the bed, he turned to look at her, watching as she swiped her shirt from last night along the back of her thigh before handing it to him. Would nights with her always be like that or was it because of the sex? Wouldn’t let himself dare to hope.

“Did you want to shower?” she asked.

“Ya can go first, sweetheart,” he nodded toward the archway behind her, waited until she’d disappeared into the other room before padding over to his jeans, feeling around the material until he’d found the pocket with his phone, sighing as he remembered the glow against the darkness of her room. Hopefully it hadn’t been life or death. Tora frowned as he took in the number of notifications, grabbing the glass of water off the nightstand and downing it. Fuck, he needed more—throat was real fuckin’ dry. As he made his way to the kitchen, he unlocked the device, his thumb hesitating over the messages icon, knowing as soon as he tapped it, the fragile bubble of her apartment would burst around them. Tora filled the glass, his gaze falling on the plants along her counter. _Pfft_ , fuckin’ cute. He opened the camera app instead, quickly snapping a photo of the strawberries, the little dinosaur succulent beside them, and sharing it in his chain with Quincey and Gyu, smirking lightly when he saw the last photo he’d sent them—the strawberry tie pinched between his fingers, Bobby’s bathroom sink out of focus in the background

Tora gulped down some of the water, swallowing and taking a deep breath before he thumbed back to the rest of his messages: Quincey and Martin, _fuck_. He opened Martin’s first—he’d probably have an assignment today. The chances he’d be off twice in a week were fuckin’ slim to none. Tora sighed. Sure the fuck enough, his night was no longer free: Vince had set the clan gathering at the mansion, essentials only. His jaw clenched reflexively at the idea—must be somethin’ real fuckin’ big for the big boss to limit attendance and request his son’s presence. He sent off a confirmation to Martin before tapping on Quincey’s message.

@Quince: Heard from Martin. Meet is set for 6.

@Quince: You’re driving. What time do you want to leave?

He thumbed back a reply as Poppy walked into the room, her hair hanging damp around her shoulders. He smirked at her shirt which read _COMMES des F*CKDOWN_ in bold, black lettering. He knew, sure as shit in that moment, he’d never get tired of her fuckin’ snark. “It’s good advice,” she said matter-of-factly, watching as he pulled his eyes up from the slogan to meet hers.

He laughed, “fuckin’ fair, Bobby.”

“There’s a towel in there for you,” she said, nodding back toward the bathroom as she picked up one of the strawberry plants, holding it under the sink to water it gently. He rested a hand on her waist, kissing the top of her head before striding from the room—couldn’t get enough of touchin’ her. “Oh my—”

He turned around at the surprise in her voice, his eyebrows drawing up his forehead. “Ya good, Bobby?” He smirked when he found her staring at his ass. Her eyes flicked up to his as she blushed lightly, water spilling over the top of the plant as she quickly turned back to the sink.

“Oh, shoot,” she muttered, pouring out the excess. “Yeah,” she glanced over at Tora where he stood halfway through the archway. “Just didn’t realize it went up the back so high,” she swallowed, glancing down at his ass again. “Did it hurt?”

He laughed, crossing his arms across his chest as he leaned back against the archway to face her. “What do ya think, Bobby? Yours hurt?”

She rolled her eyes, “that’s different and you know it. It’s your whole leg. What did you say, a hundred hours?” she said, turning to tear off some paper towels from a roll sitting on her counter, lightly dabbing the soil of the plant.

She remembered that? “That’s total, Bobby. Leg was less than that.”

“But it hurt?”

“Like hell, sweetheart.”

“Why’d you get it?” she glanced over at him again, putting the paper towel down on the counter and stepping toward him. “If it hurt that bad, I probably would’ve just asked them to stop. Walked around with a weird blob on my leg the rest of my life,” she smiled, looking up at him.

“ _Pfft,_ nah. Ya stronger than that, Bobby.” He thought for a moment, holding her gaze. “Push comes to shove, ya do what ya gotta do.”

“But that’s the thing, right?” she cocked a brow at him, her upper lip pulling up slightly above her teeth, her smile becoming a smirk. “You didn’t _gotta_ ,” she lowered her voice, and he rolled his eyes lightly. She tilted her head, looking down at his leg before running her hand along the crease of his hip where the ink feathered out. He closed his eyes at her touch, inhaling as he leaned his head back against the archway before gazing down at her on an exhale through his nose, his lids heavy.

“Gotta maintain my image, Bobby,” he said, cocking an eyebrow as her fingers brushed lower.

“Mmm, a tiger-thug,” she smirked.

“ _Pfft, pfft_ , sure, Bob.” He clenched his jaw. _Tiger of Ares Street_ … _ya do what ya gotta do._ If only she knew. _Fuck_. She nodded toward the bathroom before turning back toward the sink. Tora pushed off the archway, padding over to the bathroom, unlocking his phone as it buzzed.

@Quince: Cute dino. Think it’d match the guest room, where’d you find it? I want one.

Tora smiled, a laugh escaping through his nose. It _was_ fuckin’ cute, wasn’t it. Like her. He frowned a moment later as he exited back to his texts. There was still a notification but no unread messages that he could see. He locked it then unlocked it again like Ronzo’d told him to do. Or maybe it’d been to turn it on and off? The little red 1 still blared up at him from the corner of the app. The fuck? He’d ask Ronzo about it—stupid fuckin’ phone. He tossed it down on the sink, quickly stepping into the shower and washing down with a squeeze of one of her bottles. Loved her fuckin’ smell. He took care around his upper thighs, his cock, where her blood had dried in smears along his skin. Watched as it washed away, rusted flakes down his legs, over his feet and down the drain. Felt different than normal—he’d thought he’d be upset at the idea of her blood on him, but she’d insisted she wasn’t hurt. Instead it was a sign of their… _pfft_ , the word lovemaking had crossed his mind. _Nah_ , he thought. She wouldn’t think of it that way. Hadn’t even been twenty-four hours since she’d had sex for the first time. It’d been special, definitely. He was pretty sure she’d think so, too, but _lovemaking_? _Nah_ , he was bein’ a fuckin’ sucker. Tora sighed, frowning slightly he dried off, wrapping the towel around his waist as he picked up his phone again, leaving the small bathroom and heading to her couch where he flipped open his bag, grabbing a change of clothes, eyes lingering on the gun for a moment.

As he pulled on his briefs, the jeans, his eyes found her on the other side of the balcony door. She was leaning against the railing, her head tilted toward the city skyline along the river in the distance. Her hair fell damp around her shoulders, the back of her shirt tinged a slightly darker pink where the water soaked through the material. Tora picked up his shirt from the couch, tossing it over his shoulder, padding over to the glass door and drawing it open to join her. She didn’t turn as he came to stand behind her, one hand resting on the railing at either side of her arms. He felt her press back into him as she tilted her chin to him, angling her head so he could nuzzle against her neck. He nosed her hair out of the way until he could press his lips to her skin, her hum vibrating against his mouth. The rain drizzled down from the balcony overhang, dripping steadily against the soil of her plants. The scent of freshly-turned earth hanging in the air around them, her sweet shampoo filling his nostrils as he inhaled deeply. A moment later, he turned his gaze down to the lot below them, huffing gently against her as he saw Ronzo watching them from the guard booth. Fuck. Tora stood up, pulling the shirt from his shoulder and drawing it up and over his head. She turned to watch him as he pulled his arms through, reaching out to tug gently at the hem where it’d caught around his waist. “I keep forgetting it’s Tuesday,” she murmured. “Have to go to work.

He nodded, “can give ya a ride.”

“Oh?” she smirked at him before walking back through the open door to her apartment. He rolled his eyes—the fuck was she about to say?

“If ya ‘bout to knock my drivin’—”

“I’m just saying,” she said, walking to his open bag and picking up the keys beside it, “I’m _excellent_ at parking—even parallel parking.”

“What, that’s like, side-by-side, right?” He locked the balcony door behind him as he followed her back into the room, zipping his bag shut and slinging it over his shoulder. “Pretty good at _horizontal_ parkin’, Bobby,” he murmured, reaching around and squeezing her ass once.

He laughed as she squeaked then huffed, dropping the keys into his outstretched hand. “Tell ya what, Bob. Make me dinner tomorrow and I’ll let ya drive.” He bit his tongue between his teeth, wanted nothing more than to see her again as soon as possible. With the clan gathering tonight, probably wouldn’t be able to until it was too late at night to come see her. Didn’t wanna be a fuckin’ clingy son of a bitch showin’ up at three in the fuckin’ morning. So tomorrow.

“Oh, well, that’s the easiest deal I’ve ever made,” she said, quickly snatching the keys back from him as she whirled around, practically skipping to her low desk and grabbing up a messenger back along with some notebooks. He rolled his eyes, smirking. Was fairly sure they’d survive the trip to her office, even in the rain. Wasn’t comin’ down too heavy. He strode to her front door, toeing on his shoes and glancing around for anything he may have missed. Gun was in his bag, phone in his pocket—and then Bobby was thrusting something into his palm. He laughed softly, “Bobby, told ya. No good at carin’ for shit,” he said.

“I don’t believe that for a second,” she said lightly. “We should name him,” she bent down to pull her shoes on. Cute little white sneakers, so small compared to his, _pfft, Bobby-sized_ , he thought. “And then you can bring him back with you whenever you come over so I can check on him. Make sure he’s still alive, you know. Save him if needed,” she said slowly, turning the keys over in her hand as he held the door open for her as she reached out for an umbrella leaning beside the small pile of shoes. He looked down at the little dinosaur pot in his hand, smirking lightly—so, she wanted him to come back, and not just for dinner. _Whenever you come over_ , like it was something she wanted going forward, _whenever_.

“So, ya name everythin’ ya see?” he asked her ask as she locked the door behind him, taking the umbrella from under her arm and opening it up. “Ya name this?” he nodded up toward the opaque rainbowed panels of the umbrella. _Very Bobby_ , he thought.

Blushing slightly, she deadpanned, “I don’t know what you mean.”

 _Pfft,_ he rolled his eyes as they walked down the stairs, taking care to hold the umbrella so it covered her, the rain dripping from the fabric onto one of his shoulders as he thought of the bird she’d introduced him to. He didn’t doubt for a second that she’d named the fuckin’ umbrella. “Ya full of shit, ya know that?” He smiled to himself at the sound of her laughter, her head thrown back—loved that he could make her laugh like that, no one’d ever reacted that way to anything he’d said before her. He waited until her laughs had trailed off, wiping her eyes as they made it to the bottom of the stairs, “how ‘bout Bull,” he said, holding the plant up to his face. The pot was white, and even though the dinosaur was covered in spikes, all the edges were rounded, fuckin’ cute. It almost looked ridiculous in his hand, but Bobby’d chosen it special for him, so he’d shepherd between their apartments if that’s what she wanted.

“Bull?” she glanced at the plant in his hand, reaching a hand up to stroke one of the spikey leaves between two of her fingers. “Oh, Tora,” she shook her head, the look in her eyes telling him to get ready for some cheeky shit. He rolled his eyes again, letting his mouth hang open on a sigh as he waited for the punch. “That’s a _stegosaurus_ ,” her voice lowered on the last word, like it was a secret the thing wasn’t a fuckin’ cow.

He leaned his head back as he walked towards a pole in the parking lot, smirking to himself as she reached out to pull his elbow toward her so he wouldn’t walk right into it. “And here _I_ was thinkin’ these were the fuckin’ _horns_ ,” he played along as she giggled behind a hand. “Nah, Bobby. Bull for bullshit,” he said as they reached his car.

“ _Tch_ , Tora,” she clicked her teeth at him as he smirked, rapping his knuckles on the trunk for her to open it.

“S’not _my_ fault ya full of it, sweetheart,” he laughed, tossing his bag into the trunk before he closed it. He raised his brows at her—the hell was she gonna say?

“Bull…ony,” she finally said, her lips moving slowly over the second two syllables. “Bull-ony, like bologna.” She peered up at him as he narrowed his eyes at her. “I like it,” she bit her lip against a smirk as she unlocked the doors.

“Like mine better,” he grunted, moving around her to open the driver’s side door and holding the umbrella above the opening as the rain drizzled down his back, nodding at her to get in.

“Wait, you’re really letting me drive your car?” her mouth fell open around a smile as her eyes widened up at him.

Tora hooked the umbrella pole into the crook of his arm, bringing his arms up to lean against the top of the open door, Bull nestled firmly in one of his palms, as he lowered his head and looked up at her through his lashes, murmuring low, “see, unlike ya, Bobby,” he smirked at her eyeroll, “I ain’t full of shit.”

She clicked her teeth, ducking down into the car. Her feet were nowhere close to reaching the pedals and Tora snorted as she looked around for the lever to adjust the seat. He moved around the door, balancing the umbrella above him so that the panels rested along the roof and the window, stooping as he placed the plant in her lap, one arm sliding around the back of the seat, the fingers of his other hand gripping the bar under the front of the seat, his forearm rubbing between her knees, the inside of her shin. “Oh, I can do it. I’m—” she started to say as he guided the seat forward easily. “—heavy,” she finished softly as her fingers clutched around the dinosaur’s stomach. He frowned at the look on her face, not sure what the fuck she was talkin’ about, but somethin’ was clearly upsetting her.

He turned his head so that his nose skimmed up her cheekbone, his lips brushing against the hair beside her ear. “Ya remember last night, Bobby.” he said, not a question, thinking of the way he’d scooped her from the car up and over his shoulder, the way he’d spun her around, stood from the floor with her in his arms before carrying her to her bedroom. He raised his hand to circle her ankle, thumb stroking the skin between her pants and her sneakers. “I could carry ya up a goddamn mountain, no sweat, Bobby. So the fuck makes ya think I can’t slide ya a couple inches so ya can reach the pedals.” He tilted his head back to look at her face, watching as she bit her lip on a smile, staring intently at the plant.

She glanced up at him, “so if I asked you to give me a piggyback ride, you would?”

“I mean, sure, Bobby.” He frowned at her, “the fuck is a piggy-back?”

She laughed, her head tossing back against the seat. He felt his brows draw together caught somewhere between confusion and amusement. “Like, when you carry someone around on your back.”

He huffed a laugh as he stood back up, grabbing the umbrella and inclining his head toward her once, “ya and ya cute fuckin’ names, Bobby,” reaching out with his free hand and pinching her cheek lightly as she squirmed away from him.

She waited until he’d shut her door, skimming his hand over the dent once before he walked around to the passenger side—had he ever even sat on this side before? He folded himself into the car, knees hitting the dashboard before he pushed the seat back on a groan. “Everyone calls them that,” she said, handing him the dinosaur.

Huh, he’d never known there was a word for hauling a body on a back, wouldn’t’ve guessed it’d be so fuckin’ cutesy though, he thought as he buckled his seat, remembering all the times he’d braced dead weight against his spine. “Piggy-back, huh?” he looked over at her as she dipped her head to peer at the ignition, gently fitting the key into the hole. “Sure, Bobby. I’ll give ya a ride anytime,” he smirked at her as she blushed.

“Ha ha,” she said flatly, turning the car on with wide eyes as it purred.

“Ya sure ya got this, Bobby?” he asked, eyeing her from the passenger seat. “Wipers are—”

“I got it, I got it,” she said, fingers trailing over the knobs and levers around the wheel until she flicked on the lights and the wipers, nodding softly to herself. “Music?” she asked, putting the car in drive.

“Why don’t ya focus on gettin’ us there in one piece, sweetheart,” he murmured, watching the way the wipers pushed the rain off the sides of the windshield, the way the world beyond the car vibrated slightly with the hum of the engine. Little shit he’d never noticed before.

“I can multi-task, you know,” she said as they pulled up beside the security booth. She braked, rolling down her window and quickly pulling out her phone, tapping around on it.

“Bobby, the fuck? It’s rain—”

“Morning, Gyu,” she called to Ronzo with a smile, glancing up from her phone with a wave before pressing some of the buttons on the console along the dash. Tora bit back a groan as he realized what she was doing, totally ignoring his recommendation against music, leaning his head back against the seat and clenching his jaw as Ronzo slowly slid open the door to the booth, ducking his head down until he could see Tora in the passenger seat of his own goddamn car, Bobby connecting her device to his system. Fuck, he wasn’t even in charge of the fuckin’ _music_ , and Ronzo’d seen it all.

“Morning, Poppy…Big Bro,” he said slowly, a question in his voice as Poppy started playing something. Tora rolled his eyes behind his lids before he blinked open, leveling a glare at the stupid look on Ronzo’s face. Poppy pulled forward as the gate creaked open, rolling up the window again. Goddamn, how fuckin’ long was it gonna take Ronzo to upgrade that shit? Tora lifted his hips, cradling Bull against his thigh as he fished out his phone.

@Tora: not a fuckin word ronzo, or i’ll break ya other leg.

That’s all he needed—the man had already seen him half-naked feelin’ Bobby up on her fuckin’ balcony. For all he knew, he’d already texted Quincey about that, _shit_. “Did you mind?” she asked him, pulling out onto the road and heading toward the intersection.

“Mind what, sweetheart?”

“Sorry, I should’ve asked before pairing my phone…” she trailed off.

He huffed a laugh. Honestly, he hadn’t cared about that—just didn’t want Ronzo knowing how close he’d gotten to her since Chevy’s. She was drivin’ his fuckin’ car, for fuck’s sake. Especially didn’t want him runnin’ his mouth to Quince. _Fuck_. He’d need to have a word with him later. “Nah, sweetheart—Ronzo just,” he sighed as she took a turn, “he pisses me off sometimes. Like a fuckin’ kid brother, can be a real fuckin’ shit.”

“Mmm,” she hummed. “Always wondered what it’d be like to have siblings. You grew up together, right?”

He shrugged, looking down at Bull, running a finger along one of the spikey leaves. “What kinda plant is this anyway?” he asked, looking over at her.

“Bullony?” she smiled

“Name’s Bullshit,” he interrupted.

“ _Tch,_ ” she clicked her teeth at him. “ _Bull_ is an aloe plant—nature’s remedy for burns. Each leaf is filled with this gooey gel,” she said, reaching over and squeezing one of the spikes lightly, “and if you cut it open, you can apply it to cuts and burns. Wound care,” she explained, glancing at him. “Hey, maybe you can carry him around with your little survival kit,” she giggled behind her hand.

“Ya never gonna let that go, huh,” he smirked, looking down at Bull. Well, shit. Maybe the fucker’d come in handy. So long as Tora didn’t accidentally kill him.

They drove without speaking for a couple minutes, an easy silence around them as the next song began playing. The album cover popped up on the console and Tora bit his tongue around a snort—a bright pink square with an image of a golden bull, a heart balloon stilled in the air above it. He closed his eyes briefly, his breath catching in his throat as she began singing softly above the guy singing. He turned his head just slightly, rolling his bun against the headrest so he could watch her, not wanting her to notice. “ _Whoa-oh-oh-oh don’t go, wi-ithdrawal is my soul, wea-ea-eak-ness, I’m cold. Oh-oh-oh, smo-o-oke draws, smoke blows from my nose and keeps me warm, I-I know where I’m going, I’ve seen limbo before._ ” He felt his lips part as he listened to her. Everything about this woman was beautiful, how was she so goddamn perfect? She glanced at him and immediately stopped singing along, her face flushing. “Well, I’m still sorry, you know.” She nodded toward the console. “Definitely should’ve asked first.” As they pulled up to a red light, Tora turned his gaze to watch the headlights of the cars across the street reflected in each drop of rain before being streaked across the glass. The intersection immediately blurring as the rain continued to dapple the surface.

“Don’t mind, Bobby, really.” He reached a hand over the console, squeezing her thigh lightly—felt weird to do it with his left hand, but he found he didn’t really mind that either. “Hey, send me this,” he said nodding at her phone.

“Oh, I don’t know if you’d like it…it’s my cozy day playlist…” she trailed off but smiled when he rolled his eyes.

“Bobby, send it to me. I like it.” Like hearing her sing it anyway, and he liked the idea of being able to listen to her shit while he had to be on long drives. Almost be like taking a little bit of her with him. “Wanna be _cozy_ ,” he smirked at the last word as she reached an arm over to push his bicep lightly. “Whoa, ease up, Bobby—I’m takin’ notes here,” he laughed as she pulled up outside her building, unbuckling and exaggeratedly peering out along the lower edge of the passenger window, pressing his cheek to the glass to watch as she angled the tires parallel with the curb. _Fuckin’ perfect, of course_ , he laughed at himself. Fuck, at least she had the skill to back up her oversized fuckin’ balls.

She turned the key in the ignition, cutting the music suddenly so that all they could hear was the rain and the last bit of Tora’s laughter. He leaned his elbow on the console, resting his chin between his curled fingers and thumb as he looked up at her through his lashes. Waiting. She was definitely going to rub it in.

She waved her hands out in front of her, as though gesturing to the parking job. “Please, commence the judging,” she deadpanned before looking over at him with a smirk. “I’d say ten out of ten, but I’ll hear you out.”

He threw his head back, laughing. “Shit, Bobby. I’m man enough to admit ya kicked my ass,” he said, watching as the smirk fell from her face, replaced by a wide grin.

“Really?”

“Course,” he said, unlocking his phone and handing it to her—“now, send me that,” he nodded toward the console where the album had been displayed moments ago.

“ _Pfft_ , not even going to let me relish my victory,” she shook her head. “How am I going to relive this moment the rest of the day if you won’t let me bask in it?” He let his mouth fall open as he rolled his eyes, his grip on the phone slackening in his fingers a moment before she took it from him, holding her device to his. As she handed it back to him, she said, “I wasn’t looking, but you have a message.”

He smirked at her, “not lookin’, huh?” Watched as she blushed before he opened the messages app. “Nah, it’s fuckin’ broken—don’t have any new ones,” he said, about to lock it and put it in his pocket when she reached over and touched the corner of the screen.

“Well, it’s probably in a different folder…” she said as his eyes lingered on her fingers. What he wouldn’t give to spend the rest of the day with her, he thought, not really focusing on her words. He glanced at her face, watching her lips move, she was so close to him. “…if you want, but sometimes the unknown senders get filtered out.” She looked up from the phone, meeting his eyes, blushing at the hunger in his gaze. “Tora,” she breathed, just before he leaned forward, closing the distance between them as his hand pushed the phone down onto the console where it clattered away. He cupped her jaw, moving his hand back around her neck, fingers tangling in her damp hair as he pulled her closer to him, his tongue finding hers until all he could hear was the rain, the sounds of their breathing, her soft whimpers against his mouth.

He pulled away a moment later, looking into her eyes as he rested his forehead against hers. “I’ll see ya tomorrow?” he asked, his voice hoarse. Fuck, he didn’t want her to leave, knew that was fuckin’ selfish but still had half a mind to ask her to skip work, spend the morning with him. Wouldn’t be right, though, that much he knew. Especially since he had to work that night, too.

“Mmm,” she hummed, smiling before she pressed her lips to his one more time. Then she turned to get out of the car, grabbing her bag from off the seat and reaching down to grip the lever, sliding the chair all the way back. He smirked, doing the opposite in his seat until his knees were once again pressed up to the dash, climbing out of the car and opening the umbrella for her as she rounded the hood of the car. She dropped the keys in his open palm, letting her fingers brush his lightly as she took a step backward toward the building, one hand coming up to grab the umbrella from his fist. But fuck, he couldn’t let her go just yet. Tora extended his arm, circling her shoulders and pulling her flush to his chest, her body tight against his arms, his torso, his legs. Not a breath of space between them. Fuck. Felt her nuzzle into his chest. If he didn’t let go now, he didn’t think he’d ever be able to. Slowly, he backed up against the car, smirking at the look on her face when she’d stepped back from him. He reached a hand out, putting a finger under chin, “see ya tomorrow, Bobby. Don’t go missin’ me too much.”

She clicked her teeth softly but smiled. “Take care of Bullony, make sure you buckle him in.”

He raised his eyebrows, but when it was clear she was serious, said, “yeah, Bobby.” He leaned against the car, folding his arms across his chest once she’d taken the umbrella, watching her walk away from him toward the building, her careful pause at the door as she gripped the handle before pulling it open. Shit, she was too much, he laughed to himself. A moment later, the doors to the elevator were closing over her figure, wiping Poppy from his view. Shit. How in the fuck was he gonna make it until tomorrow night without seeing her, smelling her, holding her? Tora turned, kicking the front tire lightly before he walked around the hood to pull open the driver’s side door and climbed in, readjusting his mirrors. He glanced over at the dinosaur, reaching over to buckle it in on a sigh. Shit, he’d do anything for her. No way was he gonna fuck this up.

He pulled up the playlist she’d sent him, connecting his phone to the stereo before he found the pink album in the list, tapping on the song she’d been singing and nodding along with the slow beat of the opening. _Hold me for a minute, I’m just that far away from being considered clinically insane. I need your attention, affection is my way out of the danger zone. I feel no lightness, days like this are priceless._ He frowned slightly. This was _cozy_? He considered changing the song, was already makin’ him sadder than he was already feelin’ at leaving her, but noticed the message icon again, frowning deeper—he thought she’d fixed it, isn’t that what she’d said? He clicked on the icon, the frown slipping as his lips parted on an exhale.

@Unknown: assuming u got it since its not in the shed. ur eyes only bro. dont call this num

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can’t overstate how much I LOVE writing fluff from Tora’s POV. Fuck, their banter gets me every damn tiiiiime.
> 
> Thank you thank you thank you for reading this story and for your sweet comments—they keep me going!
> 
> Ch. 25: shit 👏 heats 👏 up 👏
> 
> In case you’re curious, this is Bull: https://tinyurl.com/y3q4uvu8  
> And the song from Bobby’s cozy day playlist is Raleigh Ritchie’s “Straitjacket.” S/o to monicaakathleen who recommended the song "After the Storm" by Kali Uchis feat. Tyler the Creator, which I wrote the opening scene to on repeat


	25. Like an omen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tora and Quincey attend a clan gathering that turns out to be much more intimate than expected. Vincent has a new task for Tora.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: aftermath/effects of abuse (physical and psychological) - heavy angst starts at asterisk if you only want to read up until that part 
> 
> Fuck, this was terrible to write. I’m gonna be straight up with you: this chapter and next are on the opposite end of the spectrum from the fluff that’s been happening the last several updates. I swear, we’ll get back to the T/P fluffiness soon—hang in there with me, please, but like, also take care of yourselves if you need time away from this fic while the angst is higher than usual. I get it.
> 
> Emotional weight aside, this was a doozy of a chapter to write just in terms of weaving plot-shit together. Has definitely taught me the importance of outlining all the way through to the end of a story FOR SURE. 
> 
> As always, characters belong to the real MVP Lilydusk, brilliant creator of Midnight Poppy Land. Support her on Patreon! https://www.patreon.com/lilydusk

**Chapter 25:**

@Unknown: assuming u got it since its not in the shed. ur eyes only bro. dont call this num

_Goddamn motherfuck_. When’d he gotten the text? Time stamp read some time last night—probably the last notification he’d gotten before he fell asleep. Shit, he should’ve gotten up to check. Tora threw his head back against the seat. Fuck, it was sure as shit from Goliath, the son of a bitch—no other fucker was stupid enough to call him bro without the deferential “big” before it. And what the fuck did he even mean? Assuming he got what? Made it sound like he was supposed to have received some kind of message. A package? The journal Vincent was after? Tora’d been convinced the thing didn’t exist. Or was he talkin’ about the fuckin’ backpack? He hadn’t found that in a fuckin’ _shed_ —it’d been in the woods in goddamn Moonbright. _The shed_. What fuckin’ shed? One of his hideouts? They were all fuckin’ dumps—how was Tora supposed to know which one—besides, he’d already staked them out multiple times now. Whatever Goliath thought Tora had in his possession, he seemed to want it kept secret, but why and from who? Just Vincent? Or was he not supposed to confide in anyone—even his own men? Quincey?

Tora pulled away from the curb, fingers itching for a smoke as his gaze fell on the drugstore at the corner of the next block. She’d be so fuckin’ disappointed in him if she knew what he was considering. But he needed to buy condoms anyway…he took a deep inhale.

At the last second, Tora pulled up along the drugstore, quickly killing the car and reaching over to unbuckle Bull from the seat beside him. He scooped up the plant and climbed from the car, jogging up to the curb and heading inside the store. He glanced around at the signs above the aisles—shit, he really didn’t have the fuckin’ patience for this. Turning to the clerk at the front, whom he immediately recognized from the first time he’d been here, Tora grunted, “condoms.” Her eyes widened and she pointed to the display beside the cigarettes behind her. He shook his head, “need more.” Her eyebrows rose above her bangs as she raised a finger to point down an aisle along the wall at the opposite end of the store where he could see a sign that read FAMILY PLANNING in bold lettering. “Thanks,” he strode across the store, clutching the plant to his side as he made his way down the aisle, finally stopping in front of the large display. Fuck, why were there so goddamn many? He almost laughed—Quince would probably be able to help. Would probably die of excitement if Tora asked. He clicked his jaw, considering. Was it worth the questions he would surely be hounded with tonight, unable to escape the blonde man at the clan gathering?

Tora pulled his phone from his pocket, snapping a picture and swallowing tightly before he sent it along with a question. The phone buzzed twice in his hand a moment later as his eyes swept over the colorful boxes, some even had shimmery shit on the front. How in the fuck was he supposed to know what kind to get? Would they all feel comfortable like the kind in the gold foil and black box, or was the that only kind that’d fit right? He grabbed one of the rectangular black boxes off the shelf—might as well get a larger pack of those. His face flushed at the response he read on his phone, his head falling forward on a groan. _Fuck,_ just his shitty goddamn luck.

@Tora: [image]

@Tora: what kind sweetheart

@Bobby: YES.

@Bobby: 🔥 🥳 🔥 🥳🔥

@Bobby: this is erdene btw

He opened his eyes, looking at Bull’s spikes. “Dunno how, but this is ya fault,” he muttered. “Fuckin’ jinx,” he closed his eyes again for a moment as the phone continued to buzz with new messages.

@Bobby: get the yellow

@Bobby: u will both thank me, trust! 💥 🔥 💯

@Bobby: purple is variety pack tho, so that might be better

@Bobby: get the little light pink box too. top shelf

@Bobby: wait! no

@Bobby: on second thought, get the one next to it. dark pink

@Bobby: skinny dark purple box, white label says astroglide

@Bobby: better safe than sorry 💦 💦

As the messages rolled in one right after the other, he felt his mouth fall open and his brows draw together up his face. Holy shit, at least she didn’t seem to be judgin’?

@Bobby: u should take her to the muse emporium 😏

@Bobby: they have a much better selection obv 👍

@Bobby: 😏 🤫 she might still have a gift card too

He cleared his throat—had seen billboards for the upscale sex shop around the city— _a gift card?_ So, Bobby’d been to the fuckin’ Muse Emporium? The thought had his cock stiffening in his jeans, finally bringing his thumbs to the screen as he bit the inside of his mouth.

@Tora: k thanks

@Bobby: 😉

Tora scanned the shelves again, picking out all the different boxes Bobby’s friend had recommended. Shit, she seemed to know what the fuck she was talkin’ about, and she’d seemed decent enough when he’d met her briefly at the office. Clearly had Bobby’s best interests—which he realized in this case also meant _his_ best interests—in mind. He’d just need to make sure not to show Bobby just how much shit he’d bought—could spread it out. Didn’t wanna fuckin’ scare her, shit. He was definitely crazy about her, but she didn’t need to know that. Shit, least not yet.

He should’ve grabbed a fuckin’ basket, he realized, trying to cradle all the shit in his arms without dropping anything. He could feel the heat in his face as he quickly walked down the aisle where he’d spotted a stack of wire shopping baskets, quickly dumping everything into one on top. He hesitated a moment, deciding to tuck Bull beside all the sex shit, murmuring, “sorry.” Jesus fuck. He looked like he either had an ungodly amount of sex or like he’d never fucked before and had just swiped whatever looked good off the fuckin’ shelf. He couldn’t help but wonder what Quincey would say if the man could see him right now. Tora bit back a groan as he made his way to the snacks—no way could he _only_ buy cigarettes and condoms. He’d pick up something for Ronzo, yeah, that sounded good. Poor fucker was spending all his time at Poppy’s building. Tora realized he should probably work out a rotating schedule with Damien so that Ronzo could have some time off. Hadn’t even considered it before, _shit_.

As he made his way to the snacks, he spotted an aisle that had summer shit on clearance, his eyes zeroing in on what looked like a stack of fabric chairs. The one on display was pretty fuckin’ low to the ground and the back seemed to adjust into different angles of recline. Why in the fuck would anyone want a chair like it? Looked fuckin’ useless. But they folded up, which would make it easy to transport, and the fabric looked comfy enough. Maybe Ronzo could set it up outside the booth? Well, definitely not today, he thought, glancing back up to the front doors where the rain was still drizzling onto the pavement. He’d pick up a cushion for the fuckin’ stool next time he went to Quincey’s. The man had plenty of pillows. He frowned and pulled the first chair off the top of the pile—the fabric was an off-white color printed with big leaves of different shades of green. Good enough. He heard the door at the front of the store open and a handful of people walked in. Tora glanced down at the pile of sex shit in this basket. Fuck, he really just wanted to get out of here. No snacks—the chair was good enough for now.

Tora quickly walked up to the register, putting the basket down and gently pulling the plant from the small mountain of flashy boxes as he held the tag on the chair up for the clerk to scan. He tried not to notice her eyes open wide as she looked first into the basket and then back up at him, the chair in his hand, blushing fiercely. He nodded at the wall behind her, “Marlboros,” he grunted, pulling out his wallet from his back pocket as he leaned the chair between his legs and glancing at the mirror behind the counter—still no one else in line.

She nodded toward his knees before turning to grab a carton, “those, uh, go all the way back, too.” In the mirror, he watched a look of confusion pass across his face as she grabbed the pack from the wall. The fuck was she talkin’ about? “Would you like a bag, sir,” she asked, not meeting his eyes as she scanned the yellow box that read _RIBBED FOR_ _HER PLEASURE_ in large lettering. He nodded once, inserting his card as she swiped her arm across the counter, dragging all the boxes into the open bag—fuck, why’d he gotten so goddamn many. He unwrapped the cigarettes, shoving the cellophane into the bag and knotting it at the top, quickly cradling Bull in his elbow and shoving the chair under his arm. “Have a good ti— _day_ …” she quickly corrected herself, trailing off as he met her eyes, opening up the lid to the pack and placing a cigarette between his lips.

“Thanks,” he muttered, pushing his way out of the store and heading back to his car where he threw everything except the plant into the trunk. As Tora climbed back into the driver’s seat, leaning over to secure Bullony with the seatbelt, hands shaking slightly, he considered _not_ lighting up. Just cause he’d bought the things didn’t mean he had to smoke them. _You’re killing yourself_ , Bobby’s words pushed to the front of his mind, her face, as he looked down at the little plant she’d picked for him. _Wound care_ , he huffed. Shit, it was gonna be a long goddamn day without the help of nicotine to cut through the stress. He needed to be sharp for Vincent, he reasoned. Yeah, especially with Goliath having just contacted him for a _second_ time and with only the most senior members of the clan in attendance tonight. Fuckin’ lion’s den. When he picked up the lighter though, he found his eyes glancing back to the plant tucked against her seat beside him. “For fuck’s sake,” he threw the little plastic lighter back into the console, rolling his eyes, settling for the feel of the paper against his lips, the faint bitter scent of the tobacco. He wanted—no, needed to be better. _For her_ , he thought. _For her._

*

Tora twirled the cigarette between his fingers, glancing over at her empty seat beside him in the dim evening light—it’d gotten darker earlier than usual with the rain and the heavy cloud cover. He’d found himself staring up at the sky several times in the ten minutes he’d been parked outside Quincey’s building, subconsciously hoping to glimpse the violet expanse he knew lay beyond the foggy haze of waterlogged clouds that hung above the city. He’d left Bull at his apartment, didn’t want him to dry out in the car—or worse, get caught in anything clan-related if shit went sideways. He’d forgotten to ask Bobby how much to water him and, rather than texting her on his way out the door, had opted to splash some drops over the plant from the tap, like he’d seen her do with the strawberries. He hadn’t wanted to put too much, though—remembering how she’d needed to pour out excess water, had even used a paper towel to sop the soil. In the car by himself, he’d quickly realized that the plant had almost felt like Bobby beside him—something she cared about, something she’d picked out for him. A gift.

_Two newborns with all our memories gone. In a strange new world. I already let you fall once,_ a man’s voice cut soft against the patter of rain against the roof, signaling the start of the song again—he’d found one on Bobby’s playlist that made him feel…well, he wasn’t really sure, he thought as the voice cut out, replaced by the melody, the rolling beat that reminded him of a circle. Maybe it was what Quincey meant when he talked about finding the right _vibes_ in the music he chose for his big parties when there weren’t live entertainers. Tora softly sang along in the empty car, having learned most of the words after his fifth listen, an octave lower than the man, “ _we rise in feathers and wax…feathers and wax…bet you didn’t know that you could save me too. Was it you that said the world could drown us quickly, well you’re braver than you think, you got me up here, too._ ” Tora’d ended up liking most of the songs, mostly because he knew Bobby liked them, that she’d put them all on the same list together for a reason. That she’s shared that list with him. But he also liked the words of this song, sounded a lot like two people helping each other, wings, feathers, wax, flying below the sun. But shit, what the fuck did he know.

He tucked the cigarette between his lips again, the paper was damp now from his anxious tick. But he still hadn’t lit it. And that was fuckin’ _something_. The pants of his suit rubbed against his thighs with each slight movement he made, the gun from under his passenger seat uncomfortably tucked in his waistband, and it was taking most of his concentration not to change into one of the clean pairs of jeans he’d packed into the go-bag that afternoon after hitting the gym. But tonight was a big fuckin’ deal, and Tora sure as shit wasn’t gonna risk pissin’ Vincent off any more than absolutely necessary. He had something to live for now, something important to keep safe. So, he’d keep his head down, do as he was told. Find his fuckin’ brother, the stupid shit. He’d decided against calling or texting the number—for one, Goliath had specifically said not to, and on top of that, Tora could still plausibly deny that he’d ever seen the messages if it ever came out that Goliath had contacted him.

Tora jabbed his finger against the center console, cutting the sound to the stereo as Quincey exited the building—blonde hair perfectly gelled on his head as the rain fell around him, one plush cushion in either hand like Tora’d requested. There was none of the usual bubbly swagger in his step as he approached the car—both men knew that whatever waited for them at the mansion must be some kind of reckoning—the weight of it pressing against the roof of the car as Quincey climbed into the passenger seat, tossing the pillows into the back and nodding at Tora once as he closed the door. He wiped some stray drops of water from around his hairline, as Tora waited for him to buckle.

“Quince, ya seatbelt,” he said finally when Quincey had taken to looking out the window.

“Mmm? Oh,” Quincey reached around and buckled, seemingly focused on what lay ahead.

“Ya know what this is all about?” Tora asked as he checked his blind spot before tearing away from the curb.

He heard Quincey swallow from beside him. “Not exactly.”

_Shit_ , he was shutting down, Tora realized, glancing back over at his brother. It happened whenever Vincent called on him to perform clan duties—was like the real Quincey retreated into a shell of himself. But they couldn’t afford that tonight. “Hey,” Tora reached across the console, pushing firm against the other man’s bicep. “Snap the fuck out of it. Need ya on ya A-game, Quince. No fuck-ups tonight. We get in, we get out. Got it?”

Quincey looked over at Tora, meeting his eyes as they passed under a streetlamp, his face illuminated by the orange light for a second before falling into harsh shadows again. Quincey blinked a couple times before Tora turned back to look at the road, flicking the wipers up a notch as he pressed on the gas. At Tora’s touch, Quincey’d seemed to pull himself out of his head. He sighed slowly, turning back to face out the windshield. “I think it has to do with that bust from last week. Dad’s still pissed. Paranoid.” Tora frowned—he’d seen the news, a handful of Vincent’s political allies arrested after evidence connecting them to illicit connections and dealings with the clan had been leaked to the press. Hell, he’d experienced firsthand the aftershocks of Vincent’s rage that Tuesday night after Chevy’s. It had to be connected to Goliath and to Vincent’s interest in the goddamned notebook. As they drew closer to the mansion, the light inside of the car evaporating as they entered the heavily-wooded area, Tora couldn’t help but feel that tonight Vincent would reveal parts of the story that only he held.

“Who’s comin’,” Tora asked as they rounded one of the last curves of the private road that led to Balthuman headquarters.

Quincey had stayed silent most of the drive, only speaking to update Tora on the time when requested, both men wracked by nerves as they barreled through the darkness toward the heart of the clan. It was never easy returning to the elder Balthuman’s lair in the woods, but especially so on nights when it was guaranteed that he’d be unstable. Though Tora knew Quincey hadn’t suffered the same kind of physical abuse he had, he knew Vincent’s demeanor—the emotional and verbal abuse—were enough to leave a mark like any beating could. Had gotten his own fair share of that shit, too. “Martin. Probably Shing Ma.”

Tora waited for more names, swallowing thickly when he realized that was the end of the list. Just the five of them. Fuck. He nodded.

“Tora,” Quincey whispered in the darkness as they pulled up outside the mansion, the dark silhouette rising up like an omen through the trees, piercing the clouds that hung lower than usual at the altitude, an imposing fog settling around the gothic-inspired pinnacles. Tora’d always thought it looked like a church—he didn’t know much about religion, but he had a feeling the mansion was probably very unlike a church in reality. He could hear Quincey breathing against the uneven fall of the rain hitting the roof above them through the trees.

“Quince.” He clenched his jaw, fuck. Being back here with Quincey pushed him right back into the stuff of his nightmares, the constellation of childhood memories he’d tried so hard to bury and that came out at night when he was unconscious—vulnerable to his own mind. The feeling of being caged, of near-escape only to be hunted, caught, returned to his adoptive owner. Unable to leave the man who’d groomed them both. Though Tora carried his scars in his bones, as toughened tissue consumed by muscle, buried within his body, he knew Quincey carried his deep within, invisible, a place walled behind the man’s usual cheerful façade. Had seen it in his eyes too many times to count, the mask slipping from the blonde man’s face on the nights he was drunkest. _Coping mechanism,_ his brother’s own words that he’d used to describe Tora’s own vices coming back to him. Tora pulled his keys from the ignition, gripping them tightly as he rested his fist against the center console, staring out the windshield as the rain wept against the glass, obscuring the view of the front door to the stone building. The thinnest barrier. A moment later, Quincey had reached out, wrapping his hand over Tora’s fist, squeezing tight. His palm was sweaty, cold enough it was probably numb, and Tora could feel his fingers shake slightly. Tora bit down on the inside of his mouth until he tasted blood.

“Give me one of your cigs.”

Tora closed his eyes. Shit, when was the last time Quincey’d made _that_ particular request—felt like it’d been years at least. His brother preferred other comforts. He reached into his pocket, drawing one out of the pack and handing it to Quincey, who removed his hand from Tora’s fist to take it gingerly with his thumb and index. He licked his lips before he reached out for one of the lighters in the console, his hands shaking more noticeably around his face as he lit up. The harsh light of the flame flickered weakly against the highlights of his face, throwing the lowlights of his cheeks into deep shadow, his eyes wide and glistening. Tora brought his hand up to hold the unlit one between his lips, rolling it slightly between his fingers as Quincey held the lighter out to him.

“Tryin’ to quit,” he said, shaking his head.

“Since when?”

Tora leaned his head back, eyes finding the shadow around the circular dent above his head. He swallowed. Fuck. _For her. Be strong for her._

From the corner of his eye, he saw Quincey turn his head to look back out the windshield, exhaling slowly as smoke swirled around them, clinging to the fabric along the roof. “Well,” he said, pausing as he watched the rain, “good for you. And me, I guess,” he added as an afterthought, and Tora couldn’t tell if he was talking about his health or the penthouse’s cleaning bill. Maybe both. Quincey let out a harsh laugh, “hey, maybe I _won’t_ lose you to cancer,” he said a moment later, and Tora frowned, glancing over at him through the haze of the smoke. Felt his lips part around the unlit cigarette. Hadn’t even occurred to him that’d been what he’d meant. Tora clenched his fist as he thought of Poppy, pulling the smoke from his mouth and tossing it into the center console beside the lighters. _You’re killing yourself._

He licked his lips and then, before he could stop himself, the words had tumbled from his mouth, “I love her. Poppylan. Fuck, I love her.” He blinked against the burn at the back of his throat, running his tongue along his teeth as he watched a leaf fall against the windshield, plastering to the wet glass. Swallowed the bitter scent of the smoke. A moment later, he felt Quincey’s hand on his fist again, still damp with sweat, though warmer, steady. He squeezed firm around Tora whose hand was still clamped around the car keys, the metal digging into the callouses on his palms. Quincey took another drag, chest puffing slightly, before he stubbed it out in the ashtray, giving Tora’s hand one last brush with his thumb before reaching for the door handle. Normally, it’d piss Tora off—waste of a fuckin’ smoke. But none of this was fuckin’ normal. Besides, he thought, he was tryin’ to fuckin’ quit. For her.

Before stepping from the car, Quincey looked back at Tora, holding his older brother’s gaze. Didn’t need to say a word. A moment later, he climbed from the car and Tora took a second to breathe deep, palm pressing against the dent in the roof for a moment as he pictured her face. Bobby, she was safe—his men knew to patrol the area and Ronzo knew more specifically to keep _her_ safe. Knew she was important, probably more so following this morning than he’d originally thought. Tora just had to make it home to her. He ran his hand over his mouth, before removing the strawberry tie from his hair, slipping it over his wrist so that the plastic rested over his pulse point under the cuff of his dress shirt. He pulled himself from the car, locking it and burying the keys in his pocket before he adjusted his suit jacket, quickly following Quincey up the pebbled drive to the front door. The rain was cold on his face, a welcome shock to his system, as he glanced up at the clouds—couldn’t see the sky, but he was comforted for a moment at the thought that the stars hung above them, just out of sight.

Tora strode up the steps, opening the door for Quincey before following into the dark mouth of the mansion. As soon as he’d shut the front door behind them, swiping the water from his jacket, Shing Ma appeared at the door to the main conference room, ushering them toward the entrance with a nod of his head, his long braid thumping against the open door at the sharp movement. Tora ran his palms along the top of his own hair, slicking it flat against his scalp with the help of the rain that had wet the top of his head.

“Young Master,” Shing nodded at Quincey, holding the door open for the heir to the empire—his future master. “Tora,” he nodded as Tora approached. He’d never had anything against Shing. The accountant mostly kept to himself, and he kept a level head. Knew what was good for him and what wasn’t. Didn’t fuck around the way a lot of the younger members of the clan did. Definitely a good choice for handling the money—Vincent’d always known how to pick those closest to him. Ever the strategist. But really, the most important thing for Tora was that the man hadn’t played a role in Tora’s upbringing, hadn’t yet joined the ranks of the Balthuman Clan as Vincent broke, then groomed, his fiercest dog until he’d earned the title _Tiger_.

“Ma,” Tora nodded as he entered the room a couple paces behind Quincey, waiting until his brother had sat down at the table before moving to stand along the wall behind him, eyes moving from Martin to Vincent. He knew better than to sit before he was invited to the table. Knew this was a fuckin’ minefield, and he sure as shit didn’t plan on losin’ any limbs tonight.

“Tora, sit,” Vincent commanded from the head of the table beside Martin, holding a hand out down the table, gesturing at the many open seats. Quincey kicked out the chair beside him and Tora slumped down into the leather seat, glancing back at Shing who had closed the door and moved to sit opposite Tora where he had spread what looked like the clan’s books along the table in front of his seat. “Before we begin, what’s the status of your brother?” He regarded Tora coolly, leaned back in his chair with his hands drawn up into a point in front of his mouth, elbows resting on the armrests of his high-backed chair.

Tora kept his body language open—nothing to hide. He’d already considered earlier in the day the idea of telling Vincent about the texts and had decided against it, so there was no hesitation as Tora reported his lack of progress. Vincent hadn’t moved, so Tora hedged, “is it likely he’s still alive?”

“I’d prefer it, but so long as I get the information I need, I don’t give a shit if he’s dead,” Vincent eyed him coldly, maybe waiting for a reaction, but Tora kept his face blank as he stared back—no way in hell was he givin’ the man an inch of what he expected or suspected. Tora nodded once before Vincent flicked his eyes to Martin. He leaned forward, picking up the scotch on the table beside him and taking a sip. “You are more than likely all wondering why you’re here tonight,” his eyes dragged over everyone at the table, lingering on Quincey before drifting back to Tora. “You all know bits and pieces, but I’ve held my cards very close to my chest these past couple of weeks. Couldn’t be too careful, and I’ll admit I wasn’t sure who I could count on. Who I could trust.” He took another sip from his glass before he fingered the dagger on the table beside it, smiling coldly, “you see, gentlemen. We have a mole.”

“A mole?” Quincey asked the question they were all thinking after a moment of silence since, as Vincent’s son, he was the only one capable of asking it without the threat of murder. “You mean someone is stealing information and passing it along somewhere?”

“Exactly it, Quinceton.” He spun the tip of the dagger in the table once before continuing, “and you four are the only people in this entire organization that I know I can trust.” Vincent placed the dagger down, taking care to angle the tip outwards so it pointed down the length of the table. “I believe the Ninedaggers are making a play for our clan’s power and territory.” He leaned forward, his elbows resting on the table as he tilted his head toward Tora, “and I think your brother is behind it. Wouldn’t be the first time he used his allegiances with members of this clan to set himself up nicely with another. Would it, Tora.”

Tora held his gaze, fighting the urge to throw himself up from the table, storm from the room. Suddenly very aware of the weight of Joe’s ring on his finger. He knew all too well what the fuck Goliath’s stunt had cost the last time.

“I received a tip—several, in fact—from my contacts at the Sherriff’s office. Apparently, someone has been poking around things that have _long_ been buried. Things that would certainly put me at risk, your _livelihoods_ at risk.” Tora felt a prickle of ice along his spine—the man had chosen his words carefully, the threat against their lives inherent, even his son. _Fuck_ , Tora fought the urge to clench his jaw at the realization of how serious this could be. Quince was right—he was paranoid. Dangerous. Tora pressed his wrist slightly into the arm rest, the strawberry hard against his skin, his veins. Tried to put himself back in that moment for a second, hoping to calm his heartrate—Bobby moving between his legs, the hair tie passing from her fingers to his. The feel of her couch beneath his thighs. He could still smell her shampoo on him, just faintly. Tora took a slow breath through his nose. “The cases being dug up are quite a ways in the past, which makes me think Goliath can’t be working alone—he’s simply not old enough to know about a lot of the crimes. Hell, unless someone is directing him, he shouldn’t even know where to begin looking—my contacts with the Sherriff tied up loose ends years ago, made sure none of it would ever see the light of day. As some of you know, the rumor goes that there’s a singular notebook that holds much of this evidence.” Tora came back to the room at the mention of the notebook. _Shit, focus, ya dumb fuck. Not the time to daydream._ “I tasked Tora with finding it a couple weeks ago at the first whisperings of this fabled smoking gun. And Tora, you said…” he trailed off, inclining his head on a frown toward Tora.

“All the leads on Goliath ran cold along the border of Ares Street. Been re-checkin’ them this week.”

Vincent nodded, “right. Right.” He picked up the dagger again, spinning it as he glanced at Martin. “So, I was thinking to myself, I’d need to draw Goliath out somehow. Martin, your men were invaluable in identifying who his closest contact is—or should I say _was_ ,” he paused before turning his head to meet the amber eyes of his adoptive son, “and Tora, you took care of him beautifully, arrived right on schedule, though I’m still not quite sure why they sent him back.” Tora’s mouth ran dry, blinking once as he fought to keep control over his breathing. Could feel the blood rush down his neck, _fuck_. He opened his mouth to breathe deeper and Vincent smiled coldly at the sign of recognition. “Yes, the Ninedaggers general—a close friend of your brother’s. _Incredibly_ close, I hear.” Tora swallowed, desperate to hold onto the threads around his poker face as it slipped from him. So, he’d murdered his brother’s friend. The man he’d been dreaming about since it’d happened—Goliath’s close friend. _Incredibly close_ , the hell did that mean? Nothing good from the way Vincent seemed to relish telling him this. And did Goliath know? Were the texts a trap? He hadn’t gotten that impression—maybe Goliath didn’t know.

He saw Quincey’s fingers move slightly out of the corner of his eye, the movement bringing Tora back to himself, back to the room, one breath enough to steady himself again under Vincent’s gaze. “Well, I don’t think he liked _that_ because he made contact—threatened to leak a bunch of documents, evidence, to the press if I didn’t release his mate. But, I mean, Tora, what was I to do?” Vincent shrugged slightly, lifting the dagger into the air, waving as he leaned back in his seat again. “After all, you’d already shipped him off at that point, so there really wasn’t any going back.”

It didn’t make sense—Goliath was one of the least loyal people he knew. The man calculated all his decisions based on his own personal risk. Fuck, he’d turned on his own blood. He’d been a kid, but still. And the evidence _had_ come out, only a handful of days after Tora’d first locked the man away. Left him on the floor of the reefer to piss himself until his body eventually gave out. Why release some of the evidence after his friend had already been offed, why give up those cards? Goliath could be stupid, but not when it came to calculating risk, which really only left the possibility of vengeance. Some small retribution for a life. But Tora still didn’t understand at all what was in it for Goliath to gather the evidence in the first place. If revenge was his motivating factor, what had Vincent done to so thoroughly make an enemy of his brother? Couldn’t’ve been worse than the abuse he’d put Tora through, right?

Tora tilted his head, leaning against the arm of the chair with one elbow, needed to give the impression that he was at ease. “Doesn’t add up. Why wouldn’t Ninedaggers take the body? What if Goliath isn’t as cozy with them as we’d thought?” Her word slipped from his lips before he could stop it. _Fuck_ , _cozy_. Not a choice that’d ever been a part of his vocabulary until that morning in the car, and here…fuck, it was tainted—no longer warmed by Poppy’s cuteness. He shrugged, continuing, “two-faced fucker coulda flipped on ‘em, too.” Vincent crossed his arms across his chest, leaning back further as he regarded Tora coolly.

Finally, he nodded, his eyes slipping from Tora’s and focusing on a point in the air above the table. “A fair assessment,” he murmured, more to himself than to his men. Several moments passed as Vincent idly picked up the dagger, elbows lowering to rest once again on the edge of the table as he leaned towards the men around him, his trusted circle. “Tora, I have a new assignment for you.”

Tora inclined his head slightly as he waited, keeping his face neutral, lips slightly downturned. The fuck was this? No more grunt work? Vincent trusted him, he knew that—as if sitting at the table with Quincey, Martin, and Shing wasn’t enough of a sign. But he’d expected the big boss to hold the punishment for going MIA at a critical moment and for not finding Goliath over his head a while longer. The fucker was sadistic, enjoyed wielding power on his ever-changing whims.

“Martin’s informed me just this morning that his men have uncovered Ninedaggers’s holds in the neutral border along the northern edge of the city. There’s a chance they’re outliers, lone wolves, so-to-speak, acting alone. Trying to make a grab for territory, some power.” Vincent clicked his teeth, scoffing as he took another sip of scotch. His face pinched in disgust as he shook his head slightly. “Fools.” He paused, swirling the liquid before downing the rest. “There’s also the more likely scenario that it’s a play by Ninedaggers. I’d thought maybe in conjunction with Goliath, but you’ve given me food for thought, Tora,” he said, turning the empty glass in his palm. “Might not be a part of Goliath’s plan. Either way, it can’t stand.” He sighed, turning to look at Tora again, “eradicate the problem.” Tora nodded once as Vincent continued, “there can be no question of our strength, especially in neutral areas.”

Tora swallowed. _Neutral areas_. _Fuck_. Nausea churned in his gut as he realized what might have caused Ninedaggers to shift their control in the north. They were probably just responding to the Balthuman shift in the south that Vincent was unaware of, as Tora’d ordered his men into the neutral territory around Poppy’s apartment. Fuck.

Vincent motioned to Shing down the table, who drew out a piece of paper and slid it across the table to Tora. A list of names, a couple locations—all along the northern border of Narin City. Tora folded it up, concealing the crisp edges in his inner jacket pocket and nodding. “Find them all. There can be no question,” Vincent repeated darkly as he stared at Tora.

“Understood.”

“How long?” Vincent inclined his head, waiting for Tora to package the brutality into an estimate—how quickly could he annihilate the men on the list?

“Am I cleanin’ as I go?”

Vincent chuckled, “no. Make it look like you played with your food. We want to send a clear message, my boy.” Tora clenched his jaw, nodding. Fuckin’ sick. He wasn’t like Scharch—never enjoyed the violence the way Vincent was asking him to stage it. Fuckin’ theater.

Tora nodded. The list wasn’t too long, and without needing to worry about disposal or cleanup, it’d take a lot less time than he’d originally anticipated. But between the multiple locations, Tora knew it’d involve a lot of waiting around for the stupid fucks to show up to their deaths. Best to give himself a buffer. “Friday.” Tora watched from the corner of his eye as what little color left had drained from Quincey’s face—the man looked about ready to collapse—tinged green at the exchange. _Hang in there, Quince. I got ya_. Tora leaned forward, extending his foot as he leaned an elbow against his knee—just barely touching the toe of his shoe against his brother’s heel.

“Before it’s done, find out what compelled them to breach the border.” Tora nodded, “and it goes without saying that this is a solo mission. The details don’t leave this room,” Vincent turned his gaze to each of them, finally resting on Quincey. “You’d do well to take a page from Tora’s book, Quinceton,” he said, eyeing his heir with a poorly hidden look of disdain. “Martin,” he said then, turning to his other side, “assign your best men to Quinceton while Tora’s away.”

Martin nodded, flicking his eyes to Tora across the table who regarded him from beneath his furrowed brow. “What time Friday?”

Tora cocked his head to the side. The son of a bitch, fuck if he knew—wasn’t Friday a good enough estimate? Tora drew a breath, but before he could respond, Quincey tapped against his foot once, speaking, “I’ll only need your men until Friday night, say, four—I have a professional engagement Tora needs to be back in time for.” Tora clenched his jaw, torn between relief at the hard stop of what would be a nightmare of a week and frustration that Quincey was still planning his fuckin’ party, bringing civilians—bringing Poppy—further into the dangerous fuckin’ web of the Balthuman Clan.

Vincent raised an eyebrow and Tora felt his lungs clench. “A professional engagement?”

Quincey turned to his father, nodding once. “Just signed on with a new publisher, need to meet with the editorial staff.”

Vincent nodded, “that’s great, son,” he said, an edge of pride in his voice. But no, Tora realized a moment later, it couldn’t be pride. Vince had never really liked the fact that Quincey was a creative type. More like he’d picked up on something interesting, the dots not quite lining up, “and why does Tora need to be there?”

Tora pressed his foot against Quincey’s, willing himself to remain frozen from the waist up as he waited for Quincey’s answer. “Well, as my bodyguard they’ll be seeing quite a bit of him when I go to the office. Don’t want to terrify them,” Quincey tilted his head to the side, waving a palm out in question as he continued, “unless you need him?”

Vincent barked a laugh at Quincey’s characterization of Tora, leaning back in his chair. “No, Quinceton. I don’t need him.” Tora clenched his jaw at the exchange—he knew Quincey was playing along, but it still pissed him off to hear them talk about passing him around. A tool. The family’s fuckin’ attack dog. Vincent turned to Martin, “so then, your men with Quinceton through Friday night. They’ll need to take over collections again, as well, moving forward.” He waited until Martin nodded before flicking his gaze to Tora, “when you return, you have one task aside from your normal responsibilities,” he nodded lightly toward Quincey before his face slipped into a cold mask, his brows drawing together as his upper lip pulled up into a snarl. “You hunt him down. I want that blue-haired fucker delivered to me. Preferably alive, but if you need to, you put him down and bring me his fucking head.”

Tora nodded once. “Understood,” he bit out through the feeling of a hand on his throat, knowing full well how this would end. _You know, I had a brother_ , Vincent’s words echoing back to him as he ran his tongue along the wound inside his mouth, _awful mess_.

Vincent sneered, his eyes cold as he spread his hands wide. “Well, gentlemen, as entertaining as this has been, I have business to discuss with Shing. You have your orders. See to them.”

Tora nodded as they all stood, waiting until Quincey had passed behind him to follow his brother out the door. He strode quickly to catch up with the blonde man who was already across the lobby, pulling open the front door of the mansion. “Quince,” he called after him. Fuck, Tora broke into a jog as Quincey approached the car, quickly unlocking it as he shielded his eyes from the rain with his other hand, his tie quickly plastering haphazardly against his chest as the downpour soaked his suit. Tora yanked open his door, throwing himself down into the driver’s seat and plunging the key into the ignition. He turned, throwing his arm behind the passenger seat, his other palm open on the top of the wheel as he reversed around the fountain at the center of the drive, making quick work of throwing the car back into drive and peeling away from Vincent’s lair. He flipped on the high beams and his wipers as they rounded the first corner of the drive and Tora flicked his eyes to the rearview mirror just as the dark shadow of the mansion vanished among the trees. They were both breathing heavily, but the sounds of their exhales were barely audible over the rain pummeling against the car as they left the shelter of the trees, turning off from the private drive and out onto the main road, speeding back toward the city.

As they passed the first mile marker for downtown, Quincey’s voice cut through the rain, “pull over.” He clenched a hand around the handle of the passenger door, waiting for Tora to screech to a stop, hydroplaning slightly on the road as his brother ripped open the door, emptying his stomach onto the pavement. Tora squeezed his eyes shut to the sound of Quincey’s heaves, reaching over to rest a palm on his back as his phone suddenly connected to the stereo, picking up on the song he’d killed just before Quincey’d first entered the car outside his building. Tora clenched his jaw, listening to the words of the song Poppy’d picked out, _I’ll help you grow, we rise on feathers and wax, child. Don’t stray too far, we rise on feathers and wax, child. I’ll help you grow wings that won’t burn in the hot sun. Can’t watch you go, we rise in feathers and wax, child._ He rubbed circles to the beatt on Quincey’s back, opening his eyes to the road ahead of them, the pavement shimmering in the bright lights of the car, distorted by the sheets of water pouring from the roof down the glass.

A minute later, Quincey pulled himself back into the car, the back of his head, his jacket soaked through. He shuddered around a couple shallow inhales, leaning forward in the seat, his forehead nearly touching the dash. They sat listening to the song, the metallic thrum of the rain beating down overhead. “What is this, it’s good,” Quincey said after a moment, his voice raw as he peered at the console display. “Didn’t know you listened to stuff like this.”

“I don’t,” Tora said, his own coming out hoarse for lack of use. Or maybe it was the song, thoughts of Bobby. He hoped she was home in her apartment, snuggled up on the couch. _Cozy_.

Quincey shook his head, leaning back in the seat as he ran a hand back over his head, palm squeezing water down the back of his neck where it streamed beneath the collar of his jacket.

“Ya good?” Tora glanced over at his brother who was looking out the passenger window.

He laughed harshly, “no.”

Tora put the car back in drive, checking over his shoulder once before peeling back onto the road. He cut the music a second later, shaking his head, fingers trembling on the wheel. The cigarettes like lead in his jacket.

“How do you do it?” Quincey asked as they entered the financial district a little while later. Tora clenched his jaw, didn’t wanna fuckin’ talk about this. Wasn’t a matter of how. He just did as he was trained to do, followed orders. Survival. Quincey turned to look at him after a couple moments as they pulled to a stop at the light at the intersection of the drugstore, the Starbucks. Poppy’s building ahead on the next block to the left, pulling Tora’s eyes toward the glass door. Not like she was there now—she’d be at home by now. So late. He hadn’t texted, should do that. Fuck. “I know this isn’t new for you, but it is for me,” Quincey bit out when they’d pulled up outside his building. “Just want to know I’m not alone, Tora.”

Tora huffed a sigh through his nose. “Ya never alone, Quince. I just—” he swallowed. Fuck, how could he say it was never something he’d gotten used to? The man was looking for reassurance, the promise that any of this shit got easier. And it fuckin’ didn’t. It just fuckin’ didn’t. “Every time’s like the first,” he finally said, pushing the man in the container to the back of his mind where the rest of his nightmares curled around him, a tumor he’d never be able to cut out. Not until he was fuckin’ dead.

“Fantastic.” Quincey sighed, his shoulders crumpling as he leaned his head against his palms taking a deep inhale. “You know, if you need to talk to someone…” he trailed off, glancing over at Tora from between his fingers.

Tora nodded, yeah. That wasn’t gonna fuckin’ happen. Was never gonna tell anyone about the memories rooted deepest in his mind where the nightmares bloomed like dark, fucked up flowers from the center of the mass. “Ya not alone,” Tora repeated, slapping him on the back once. “Now get out, gotta head north if I’m gonna make it back by Friday for ya fuckin’ professional engagement.”

Quincey gulped, his face paling in the dim light from the buildings along his block. He nodded, reaching out and squeezing Tora’s shoulder briefly before climbing from the car. Tora watched as he jogged to the lobby, waited until Quincey had disappeared around the corner where the elevators were before peeling away from the curb. He needed to get a move on—get to his apartment and pack his long-range gear, some more close-range weapons, too, just in case, though he wasn’t planning on engaging in any kind of close combat. Get in, get out. Needed to grab Bullony, too. Didn’t want to leave him alone for so long, especially since he wasn’t sure how much water he needed. But first, he needed to drop the fuckin’ cushions off with Ronzo.

As he made his way to Poppy’s apartment, Tora turned the music back on, letting the song wash over him like the streams of raindrops that collected and ran horizontal across his window toward the back of the car. He idled for a moment outside the gate to her building’s lot, debating whether to enter before deciding against it. The gate was still so fuckin’ loud—didn’t want to risk her seeing him since he wasn’t gonna be able to go up and visit her. Didn’t want to get her hopes up, get _his_ hopes up. Fuck. He killed the engine, turning around in his seat to grab the cushions from the back and frowning slightly at the bag from Fred’s. Shit, he still needed to bring it to Alice, and now he wouldn’t be able to until the fuckin’ weekend. Hopefully it wasn’t urgent and, knowing them, it probably wasn’t.

Tora exited the car, jogging through the rain to the pedestrian gate, waving at Ronzo to meet him. As the man met him on the other side, Tora shoved the cushions through the gate, throwing his head back as he remembered the chair in the trunk. “Hang on,” he called over the downpour, raindrops sputtering from his lips, “got one more thing.” He ran back to the car, shielding his forehead from the rain as he quickly popped the trunk, pulling the chair out and running back over to the gate which Ronzo opened for him, quickly taking the chair.

“Ah, thanks, Big Bro! A beach chair—perfect weather for it,” he laughed.

_A what?_ Tora peered at the chair through the rain. The fuck made it a chair for the beach? He shook his head. “Dunno what ya talkin’ ‘bout. Ronzo,” he nodded back toward the booth, so that he could stand under the overhang while Ronzo tucked the cushions and the chair into the tiny space. “Leavin’ town for a couple days, boss’s orders,” he raised his voice over the pounding of the rain against the booth’s roof. “Gonna call Damien and coordinate a schedule so that ya can rotate shifts here,” he said as Ronzo smiled.

“Sounds good, Big Bro. Getting a little cramped in here,” he laughed. Tora nodded, glancing around the booth. It was fuckin’ sad—he’d make sure to bring some more shit for Ronzo next time he visited Bobby. Maybe a plant.

He nodded his head back toward her building behind him, “need ya to keep an eye on her for me,” he said finally. Ronzo frowned slightly, taking in the weight of what Tora was asking, before he nodded.

“You got it, Big Bro.”

“Text me if anything comes up. Might not be able to respond right away.”

Ronzo nodded at him, “hey, be careful, Big Bro.” Tora frowned at him, raising an eyebrow. When the fuck was he _not_ careful? “Just saying she’d be devastated if something happened to you,” he said.

Tora swallowed, clenching his jaw. Fuck, he already fuckin’ knew that. Didn’t make him feel any better hearin’ it from Ronzo. He stared at him for a moment before he nodded, turning quickly and heading back to the car. He sat for a minute, aware of Ronzo watching him from the booth, but was comforted by the fact that he probably couldn’t see him at all through the darkness and the rain.

Tora lifted his hips slightly to the side, digging his hand into his damp pocket and pulling out his phone. He tapped on Poppy’s contact and hit dial, eyes on the warm glow of her balcony like a beacon in the night.

“Tora?”

“Hey, sweetheart,” he smiled at the sound of her voice. Fuck, he’d really needed to hear her, hadn’t quite realized it until he felt the tension release from around his throat, his shoulders, like binds cut away suddenly. “Just wanted to say goodnight.”

He heard her laugh softly on the other end, her shadow passing along the glass door of the balcony. Fuck, he swallowed. Wanted more than anything to run up the steps to her, pound on her door, fall into her arms, her bed. “Mmm, couldn’t wait ‘til tomorrow to talk to me?” she asked lightly, a smirk evident in her voice. “I thought _I_ was the one who was supposed to be missing _you_.”

_Fuck_. His head fell back against the seat. With everything that’d happened since the morning, he’d forgotten about their dinner plans. How’d he forgotten? _Fuckin’ asshole_. He opened his mouth slowly, each word wrenched from his throat, “I’m sorry, Bobby.” She was silent on the other end as she waited for him to continue. He swallowed. “Got an assignment—gonna be out of town for a couple days.”

He listened intently, closing his eyes against the pounding of the rain, shutting out the soft glow of her balcony which lingered as a purple haze against his lids. “Oh.”

“I’m sorry, sweetheart. I’ll make it up to ya,” he nearly croaked, the familiar burn at the back of his throat as he bit out one more word. “Pinky.”

He heard her draw a breath, “of course.” She paused, could hear her swallow. “Some other time.” He waited a moment, listening to her breathe. “Take care of Bull, okay?”

He huffed a laugh, “course, Bobby. Best I can.” He drew his lips between his teeth, exhaling hard. Fuck, he didn’t want to leave, didn’t want to hang up. Would listen to her fuckin’ breathe for hours. _I love ya_ , the words again, catching in his throat. But he’d said them to Quince—why was it so hard to admit to her? _Cause it’s too fuckin’ soon, ya sucker_. Right. “Sweet dreams, Bobby.”

“Night, Tora,” she said softly. A moment later, she’d hung up. He waited another minute, watching her balcony as the glow was suddenly extinguished, plunging the side of the building into darkness, the rain obscuring his ability to see the plants, her space.

He took a deep breath, listening to the rain before he unlocked the phone again, opening the message from last night. He frowned, his brother’s words glaring up at him from his lap, _assuming u got it since its not in the shed_. Still didn’t know what the fuck he meant, but he’d have plenty of time to think about it over the next couple days. He locked the phone again, pocketing it as he turned the key in the ignition, pulling a U-turn after one last glance up at her building, the wipers offering brief glimpses of her balcony through the pour of rain against the windshield. He’d be back, he told himself. He’d be back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tora listens to Vicktor Taiwòn’s “Feathers & Wax” off of Bobby’s cozy day playlist (which is really just a playlist for reading her smut on rainy days lmao). If you’re curious about music vibes, I wrote the angsty parts listening to “Take What You Want” by Post Malone feat. Ozzy Osbourne and Travis Scott on repeat. 
> 
> Thank you thank you thank you for reading this story and for your sweet comments—they truly keep me going and I cannot even begin to convey what they mean to me. I cry so much, but in a good way! Thank you for sticking with me through this. I feel like Quincey trying to avoid a fuckin asteroid 😂😂
> 
> Ch. 26: Poppy feels Tora’s absence like a black hole and/or angst angst angst with some *intrigue*


	26. Even the sky is crying

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Poppy evaluates her feelings when Tora leaves town. Familiar faces abound.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit longer than I'd expected 🙃 Some blink-and-you’ll-miss-it NSFW heh
> 
> As always, characters belong to the real MVP Lilydusk, brilliant creator of Midnight Poppy Land. Support her on Patreon! https://www.patreon.com/lilydusk

**Chapter 26**

Poppy picked up her phone again, checking the message chain with Tora she’d left open most of the day since he’d let her drive his car to Giant Goldfish earlier that morning. Time had passed by her like water all day—just as she’d been incredibly aware of just how many minutes had made up the hours since she’d hugged him goodbye, it seemed at the same time like it’d only been a handful of moments. And she hadn’t heard from him all day. She’d considered texting him many times—in fact, so many times that she’d ended up simply leaving the texts open on her phone, the phone by her side, unlocked. Every time she’d seen the screen dim in her peripheral vision, she’d gotten her hopes up, her eyes playing tricks on her as it looked like the screen was flashing with a notification. So, she’s reach out and touch the crack down the middle, a pit in the back of her throat every time she was met with her last text to him—a winking emoji. She hadn’t remembered sending it to him, but judging from the morning timestamp, it must have happened on accident one of the many times she’d tapped her screen to keep it awake. Not for the first time that day, she’d considered texting him a clarification—the wink was an accident. But she found herself holding back—it was strange he hadn’t responded at all.

She put the device back down on her lap, picking up the manuscript again where it’d slipped off her stomach and into the dip between her side and the back of the couch where she was curled up listening to the downpour outside. She’d closed the balcony door a little while ago—the river breeze a little too cool for her liking with the combination of the rain which had started as a cozy drizzle in the morning and had turned into quite the storm as the day progressed. Quincey would be coming into the office tomorrow to have a preliminary planning meeting about Mr. Lam’s ghostwriting project, and Poppy had set aside time tonight to finish up working through his late wife’s unfinished manuscript, making final notes here and there based on the outline Mr. Lam had detailed on the general arc of the book. Technically, she’d already finished drafting up a proposed sketch of the material to give to Quincey tomorrow, but—out of a combination of nervous energy at not seeing Tora until tomorrow night and her own need to prove herself—she’d decided to devote her night to making final touches after having stopped at the grocery store to stock up on rice and some meat for the dinner she was going to cook for Tora. She’d almost picked up a small dessert at the store when her eyes had landed on the opera cake, remembering the way he’d ended up liking the cake she’d made for him despite his seeming resistance to artificial sugar, but had decided against it at the last moment. It wouldn’t be nearly as good as the opera cakes from her favorite bakery in Moonbright that her dad had used to take her to. Maybe one day she could take Tora there—she wondered if he’d like it.

Poppy bit her lip around a smile as she thought of him, of getting to see him again, before huffing a sigh. _Focus, Poppylan_. She was never going to get through the fudging manuscript if she kept checking her phone and thinking about him. She glanced at the end of the couch where just last night he’d held her in the moonlight, his amber eyes burning with desire even in the darkness of the room as he’d rocked up into her, his large palms gripping her hips, callouses rubbing against the skin of her thighs, her butt as he let her ride him, showed her how, encouraged her movements with his own. She blushed at the memory, squeezing her thighs together, a little painfully—she’d been incredibly sore from the first time and the second had almost been too much. Even his fingers this morning had felt so thick inside her. Poppy threw her head back against the armrest of the couch, groaning at the ceiling. Could feel herself growing damp just at the thought of him, the way he looked at her, touched her. Almost like she was, what, precious to him? Like she was everything in each moment he spent with her.

As Poppy closed her eyes—she thought of his voice, husking against her ear, breath hot on her face, his bare body against hers, _who’d ya want, Bobby_. As her hand began to wander down her from her stomach to the waistband of her pajama bottoms, her phone began buzzing. Poppy jumped, the manuscript falling from her again as she quickly snatched up the phone, a grin splitting her face as she hit the accept button once, twice—practically whimpering in frustration when the stupid crack didn’t recognize her touch. Finally, the screen registered her frantic tapping and she sat up quickly, cupping the device to her ear with two hands, “Tora?”

“Hey, sweetheart.” Poppy clutched the phone to her face, the grin spreading wider across her face. She’d missed his voice, missed everything about him. The weight that’d been pressing on her shoulders all day since leaving his arms released suddenly, slipping down her back. Poppy stood up, walking to the kitchen to grab a glass of water. “Just wanted to say goodnight.”

She laughed softly—he could have just texted her like he usually did. Had he missed her the same way she had missed him? Needed to hear her voice the way she’d needed to hear his? She bit her lip between her teeth, considering what to say before deciding on a light tease—he seemed to enjoy it when she did that. “Mmm, couldn’t wait ‘til tomorrow to talk to me?” she smirked around the glass of water as she took a sip, thinking back to his parting words to her from the morning, _don’t go missin’ me too much_. “I thought _I_ was the one who was supposed to be missing _you_.”

She set the glass down on the counter, her smile faltering at the silence on the other end. She frowned slightly—had she pushed too far? She pulled the phone from her ear to check that the call hadn’t disconnected before pressing the device back to her ear. She heard him inhale. “I’m sorry, Bobby,” he said slowly. _Sorry._ She laid a palm flat on the counter beside the strawberry plants, steadying herself for whatever came next. Had it really been just about the chase? Had she been right that night at Chevy’s? He’d gotten what he wanted? And to think, she’d wanted so much more. Had thought he might, too. “Got an assignment—gonna be out of town for a couple days.”

Poppy looked out the window of her kitchen above the sink, watched the lights of the city in the distance bubble around the water streaming down the glass, collecting along the bottom panes. She didn’t know what to say. At least it seemed to be out of his control? Unless he was lying about work. It wouldn’t be the first time a man had made up a work event to get out of seeing her—Julri had made a habit of it. But Tora had never lied to her, he wouldn’t lie to her. And he had a life outside of her, of course it was okay that something had come up. “Oh.”

“I’m sorry, sweetheart,” his voice sounded ragged around his name for her. “I’ll make it up to ya. Pinky.” At the last word, the tension that’d balled at the base of her throat melted and she let her head fall back on a small smile as she took a breath. How did he always know exactly what she needed to hear? That reassurance—something Julri had never cared to do, had never taken the time to learn what she needed, and after less than two weeks, Tora was already able to read her even when he couldn’t see her.

“Of course,” she said, taking a sip of water. “Some other time.” _Hopefully soon, though_ , she thought. The meat wouldn’t keep for too long. She considered asking him when he’d be back but decided against it at the last second—didn’t want to seem clingy. Julri had always complained about that. “Take care of Bull, okay?” she smiled, thinking of the little aloe plant. How tiny it’d looked in Tora’s hand when she’d pressed it against his palm that morning. How gently he’d cradled it when she’d given it to him.

She listened to his husky laugh, barely a whisper on the other end. It sounded like he might be outside—the rain thundered in the background. Was he working now? Had he called her to say goodnight even when he was busy? “Course, Bobby. Best I can,” she smiled as he exhaled. Sounded like he might want to say more, so she waited. After a moment, he breathed, “sweet dreams, Bobby.”

She looked down at the floor, one of her bare feet tucked over the other, thinking of the way he’d pressed her right sole to his chest that morning, leaning over her bent leg as he stroked her. His gaze fiery as he watched her from hooded lids. She hoped she dreamed of him tonight. “Night, Tora.” She waited a second before pulling the phone from her face, pressing the end call button. She took another sip of water, bringing the glass with her as she shut off the lights in her apartment, figuring now was as a good time as any to go to bed. Despite her intention to continue working on the manuscript, now that she’d heard from him it was easier to admit to herself that one of the reasons she’d stayed up was in the hopes of hearing from him.

Poppy took her time getting ready for bed, combing out her hair that had dried into a frizzy mess from this morning. She’d found the shirt Tora had worn the night before crumpled on the floor—she didn’t know if he’d forgotten it or if he’d purposely left it behind for her, but she didn’t dwell on it, immediately picking it up and pulling off her other shirt in favor of wearing his. Once she’d crawled into bed, she drew the fabric up around her nose, inhaling deeply at the scent of him all around, wishing desperately that he was beside her, wrapped around her. Had loved the feel of waking up bare against him—something she never thought would be possible, that she’d be comfortable being completely naked around someone else. And yet, with Tora…she smiled, burrowing further under the covers and letting her eyes drift shut.

*

His hands skimmed up and down her sides, callouses catching slightly against her bare skin as she felt his hair on her shoulders, his lips against her ear as he curled around her back, “bend over, Bobby.”

“Mmm,” Poppy moaned, her eyes fluttering against the black, white, and gold décor of the bar, the feel of the leather stool under her palms supple as she leaned forward, bracing herself with one hand against the bar top. “Someone might see,” she breathed as she felt his teeth nip her shoulder, the fingers of one of his hands stroking between her folds as she ground lightly against him, his other palm sliding from her back down to grip her bottom, parting her cheeks slightly as he pushed one finger inside her. “Oh,” Poppy felt her fingers tighten on the seat and the wood of the bar. There were people at the other end of the room, could hear their soft chattering, the sound of glassware clinking. If they turned around, surely, they’d see her, see Tora—the stool would do nothing to hide their bare bodies pressed back to front in the middle of Chevy’s, his finger pushing in and out of her from behind. So slow, agonizing. Cruel, almost, as he laughed softly, backing away from her as she tried to push back into him. His finger felt good, but she knew now his shaft was much thicker, longer, would stretch her just right, just the way she needed.

“Pleeaaaase,” she breathed, drawing her foot up onto the lower rung of the barstool. “Tora, I need you,” she whimpered as he pushed into her with two fingers, scissoring slightly as he stretched her walls.

She felt him laugh again, softly, before he murmured low, “so _needy_ , Bobby. But ya gotta do what I say to get ya reward.” She felt him rub the head of his penis against her skin, velvety soft—rigid with desire. She nodded, panting. Nodded again, she’d do anything he said. Wanted to please him. His voice came out in a husky growl and she felt her walls clamp down around his fingers reflexively as she moaned his name. “I said bend,” he pressed his length harder against her butt, could feel how ready he was, “over.” She felt his palm on her lower back, pushing her down against the stool. Poppy let out a low moan as her clit rubbed against the leather, Tora’s hands on either side of her butt, spreading her legs as he stepped between them, pushing himself inside her, so thick, filling her, her name on his tongue. She heard a sound she’d never made before fall from her lips as he pumped inside her a couple of times, the bar stool wobbling dangerously at the force of his movements—the people at the end of the bar were about to turn around, how had they not seen them yet? And then she felt him pulling away from her for a moment before his hands were spreading her wider, his tongue pressing into her from behind. He hummed against her and she cried out—his tongue flattening around her clit, vibrating. How was he vibrating? His fingers pushing back inside her. “Oooooh,” she sighed, feeling her walls begin to clamp down. “Look at me, Bobby.” She did as she was told, would do as he told her so long as he didn’t stop.

Poppy stumbled back out of the chair as she turned her head around to look at him, throwing a hand out to brace herself as she fell to the floor where she sat up in bed suddenly, breathing hard, palm pressing against the mattress. She blinked furiously against the darkness of the bedroom, the silence of the apartment pounding in her ears—or was that her heart? She frowned—the mattress was damp? Why was it damp? She dug under her pillow, pulling out her phone and flipping on the flashlight, pointing it at the bed—no blood, that was a plus. Wouldn’t have been the first time she’d started her period unexpectedly in the middle of the night. She put a finger to her underwear, her eyes widening in the dark. They were definitely soaked through—she pulled them off quickly, tossing them to the floor and scooting over in the bed to a dryer spot, thinking back to the dream.

No wonder she was wet, she thought, closing her eyes again, smiling slow at the thought of Tora’s hands running over her body, pushing inside her—maybe if she could fall back asleep right away, she might be able to get back to…Chevy’s? They’d definitely been at Chevy’s. And she’d been so turned on at the notion of sex with Tora in public. _Who are you and what have you done with Poppylan?_ She could practically hear Erdene’s voice in her head as she laughed to herself, sucking her lips between her teeth. And that position…she blushed thinking back to the photo she’d seen on Dene’s phone last week. She bit her lip, wondering if Tora’d be turned on at something like that, too.

Her smile fell as she remembered the reason she’d woken up, what had startled her from the dream. She’d turned around and met Tora’s eyes, except…they weren’t really his eyes—a different shape, similar color. And the blue hair. It was definitely the young man—teen? He hadn’t looked that much older than she’d been at the time—who’d shown up at Granny’s house a handful of years ago. She hadn’t thought of him in a while, not until her conversation with Tora the other night, her offhand comment about his eye color pulling just two other people to the front of her mind. The blue-haired man—she’d never found out why he’d been asking for her father, a notebook clutched in his hand, he had left almost immediately when she’d informed him of his recent death. Had always been strange, she’d known everyone in Moonbright—no one with blue hair in the town. She’d come to figure that he might be affiliated with the city journal in some way. Maybe an intern? She shook her head, didn’t like the way her mind had substituted him in place of Tora. Didn’t like it at all. She turned over in bed, pulling his shirt back up over her nose, trying to catch his scent again as she drifted back to sleep.

*

Poppy walked quickly toward the large sign of the drugstore that read FAMILY PLANNING, kicking herself for not choosing a larger purse to take with her to work that day. The stupid little black crossbody bag could barely fit anything in it—how was she supposed to make it the rest of the day without Erdene finding out that she’d bought condoms? It’d been over twenty-four hours and she’d still yet to tell her friend that she’d had sex. That she’d had sex with Tora. Poppy could feel the blush on her cheeks as she smiled to herself—she was even _dreaming_ about him, his eyes, his hands on her body. Hungry. Poppy shivered as she approached the large, colorful display of shelves with rows of different kinds of birth control methods and a limited selection of other sex products. The sex shop Erdene had taken her to once after getting her a gift card for her 20th birthday had a much wider variety of products and—she noticed with a slight frown—the prices were also more reasonable than the surcharges of the drugstore. Money was always tight, but with the new contract she’d just landed with Quincey, Gil had said she could expect a small signing bonus by the end of the week on her next paycheck and a pay bump, too, because of Noyouko’s notoriety. It was a big deal, after all, that their small independent publishing house had managed to sign on with such a well-known writer. Poppy tilted her head, biting her lip as she considered what to buy. She’d likely only have room in her purse for one product. She picked up one of the larger rectangular boxes, a little larger than the span of her hand—apparently, there were twenty inside, but if they took up the entire inside of the packaging, there was absolutely no way they’d all fit in her purse. She sighed, putting it back down and turning her gaze to the small square boxes to her left—she’d probably just need to settle for one of those three-packs. She could always buy more. Didn’t want to risk Erdene seeing them or she wouldn’t hear the end of it. Poppy wanted to wait to tell her friend, at least until they weren’t at work—that wasn’t a conversation she wanted her boss overhearing. Or Jacob, jeez.

Biting back a smirk, Poppy’s hand reached for the black box meant for those who were well-endowed. Though she hadn’t seen any other penises in person, she’d seen her fair share of adult videos, and knew Tora definitely qualified. Her eyes lingered on a yellow box above it that read _RIBBED FOR HER PLEASURE_ in large lettering. She made to reach out to it—what did _ribbed_ mean? Would they fit Tora?—when another customer turned down the aisle. Poppy blushed furiously, quickly taking the black box from the shelf and holding it with both hands so that her palms covered the packaging. 

Poppy felt her phone buzz in her purse as she stood in line and she considered whether it’d be worth the trouble to fish it out, knowing it’d be a struggle and that there was a good chance she’d drop the condoms from where they were carefully concealed in her hands. She’d decided that she would wait to check until she’d made it back to the office, but it buzzed a couple more times. Sighing, she fished it out, her fingers barely able to wedge around the device as she pried it from the tiny bag, rolling her eyes when she saw they were all from Erdene. Her friend had been acting strange all morning, frequently bringing up the fact that she was Poppy’s best friend and most trusted confidant. She’d seemed weirdly crushed when Poppy had turned down having lunch with her, and Poppy had spent five minutes assuring her she just needed to run an errand, that their friendship was _not_ the sinking ship Erdene had implied it might be. _Tch_ , she bit back a laugh at the image Erdene had sent—a selfie, effortlessly gorgeous of course, sitting by herself at a window ledge overlooking the small courtyard behind their building where they’d often eat lunch together on nice days. With the continued rain, though, she was sitting at the indoor seating area where they took lunch when it was too crummy to be outside. She was holding up a smoothie, flashing wide, sad eyes at the camera, the caption she’d sent so clearly a guilt trip.

@Erdene: [image]  
@Erdene: the courtyard is so lonely 😔 even the sky is crying

Poppy inhaled deeply, closing her eyes and rolling them against her lids as she stifled a smile. When she exited back to the messages to type a reply, her lips parted in surprise at the most recent messages her friend had sent—definitely not the continued guilt tripping she’d expected. 

@Erdene: I know ur on ur lunch but Q just got here  
@Erdene: no rush but hes asking for u

“Miss, are you all set?” the clerk called to her and Poppy quickly stepped up to the register, putting the condoms down on the counter and tugging her wallet from her purse. As she inserted her card, she met the clerk’s eyes.

“Would it be possible to throw the box away here?” she asked, blushing slightly as the woman smiled knowingly.

“No problem,” she tapped the register screen once, then quickly opened up the box, handing Poppy the three condoms, “you want a receipt?” Poppy shook her head quickly, putting her wallet back in her bag and tucking the condoms beside it.

“No thanks.” Her phone buzzed in her hand as she zipped up her bag. When she unlocked it, her heart leapt to her throat as she quickly thumbed at the message from Tora. He’d sent an image, no text. Poppy laughed as she stopped at the intersection, the image finally loading as she waited for the light to turn, her rainbow umbrella tucked under her arm, forgotten despite the drizzle of rain on her head, her screen. She ducked her head closer to the phone to shield it from any drops that threatened to settle into the crack down the glass, swiping her fingers to zoom in.

It was a picture of Bullony in the passenger seat, buckled tight in the place where she would normally be sitting if she were with him. The window behind the plant was dry—clearly he wasn’t in the city, or at least, not in her part of the city. Poppy felt her stomach settle at the realization—a combination of seeing that he was far enough away that the weather was different and of the implication that he was, indeed, out of town. Had not lied to her. She frowned to herself—hadn’t even realized that she was still worried about that, swallowing thickly at the guilt, the shame she felt. He’d never given her a reason not to trust him, and here she was zooming in on the window in the hopes that she might be able to tell where he was. Her fingers immediately stilled on the screen at that realization before exiting out of the chain to open her camera. She smiled at the phone, snapping a picture of herself with her bottom lip drawn between her teeth, her eyes narrowed in an expression she hoped looked playful before sending it to him. As the light turned, she considered sending him a message, too, but decided against it—she’d follow his lead. Didn’t want to come across as clingy or anything, the guilt of her own mistrust still lingering at the front of her mind.

As she made her way up to the building, she looked up, catching the eye of a man in a suit who was smoking just beside the glass entrance. He looked familiar—short black hair with a high fade—she could see most of his pale scalp, his skin the color of bone. Brown eyes tinted an unsettling shade of red which narrowed when he saw her. She quickly looked down at the locked phone screen in her hand, pretending like she hadn’t noticed him, but could see him from the corner of her eye as he tilted his head toward the man standing in front of him, also wearing a suit. She could feel their eyes on her as she approached and she considered turning around, but that would be weird, right? She was really trying to be better about judging people— _Miss Judgy_ , she could practically hear Tora’s voice in her head. But something felt off about this. She glanced back up at the men, thinking they would have turned back to their conversation, but they were both openly watching her approach, smoking in silence. Poppy drew in a quick inhale as she recognized the piercings on the first man’s face—she was almost certain he’d been at Chevy’s last week. And Tora. He’d angled his body easily, keeping his wide stance between her and the men behind him at all times save for the moment the men had departed and she’d made eye contact with one of them. _This_ one, she was quite sure.

Her heart thumping in her chest, Poppy unlocked her phone quickly, pulling up her chain with Tora, her thumbs hovering over the open conversation, the images they’d exchanged. He hadn’t responded, was probably busy. She didn’t want to worry him with this, after all, the men were only looking at her. And she was looking at them, so she wasn’t much better, was she? As she drew closer to them, she watched them stub out their cigarettes—the one with the reddish-brown hair folding his arms across his chest and smiling at her, though it didn’t reach his blue eyes. She smiled back when she met his eyes, glancing away quickly. Realistically, if she were really worried, she could continue walking, move past them and walk around to the back of the building, entering through the courtyard. There was an elevator back there, too, so she wouldn’t have to see them through the glass lobby. Plus, there was always the stairs. A voice at the back of her head piped up, though, perhaps stupidly, _no, you have the right to walk where you want. They don’t get to make you feel uncomfortable, Poppylan._

She huffed a breath, locking her phone and turning toward the glass entrance. She watched from the corner of her eye as the two men exchanged a look. Poppy swallowed. Maybe she should have gone around the back. Or to Starbucks. There were plenty of public places she could’ve walked to—despite her mini pep talk, she couldn’t help the dread that crept up her spine. The man with the piercings pushed away from the wall suddenly, throwing out his hand to grab the handle of the door moments before she could. She looked up at him in surprise, taking a step back reflexively as he moved closer. “You work here, brown eyes?”

Poppy felt her eyes widen as her face flushed automatically. “Um, excuse me, I just…” she trailed off as he held her gaze, tilting his head on a small smile. She swallowed, her eyes flicking to his companion who had lowered his head slightly to gaze at her from beneath his brows—she thought for a moment that he looked sinister before she kicked herself inwardly. Now, _that_ was judgy. She could see a black marking on his neck—a swirl?—before he angled his head further, obscuring the tattoo from her view. She looked back at the man with the piercings, who hadn’t yet opened the door, clearly waiting for an answer.

 _Vague. Keep it vague, Poppylan_. She widened her eyes, feigning ignorance as she glanced down at the phone in her hands, “oh shoot, I’m supposed to be meeting someone. I thought this was the address,” she said, tapping on her screen, taking care to angle it away from their eyes as she typed in her passcode. “This doesn’t look like a coffee shop, though…” she trailed off, plastering a worried look on her face as she met his eyes.

He glanced down at her hands, flicked his eyes over to his companion and then back up to her face, smiling wider. “Did ya look across the street?” He nodded behind her toward the Starbucks and she turned slower than necessary, letting her mouth fall open slightly on a soft gasp.

The red-haired man snickered as she looked back at the man with the piercings to thank him and end the conversation, he glanced back up from where he’d been looking at her legs, “you seeing anyone after your meeting, brown eyes?”

She smiled shyly, thinking quickly, “mmm,” she nodded, glancing back at the Starbucks before holding his gaze, “my boyfriend is taking me out,” she said.

He cocked his unpierced eyebrow, smirking lightly, “your boyfriend, huh? Figures a girl as cute as you’d be locked down.” He watched as her smile faltered slightly—had he called her bluff? “Wouldn’t want you to be late, brown eyes,” he said, nodding his head across the street. “Looks like there’s a line.” She followed his gaze through the window of the coffee shop, groaning internally. She was going to be much later than she’d thought to meet with Quincey.

“Yeah, I should go,” she said, quickly moving toward the curb and opening her umbrella so that it shielded the back of her head, her shoulders, from their view as she waited for a break in the cars. After a minute, she saw her chance, tearing across the street, phone clutched in her palm as she ran up to the entrance of the Starbucks, quickly closing the umbrella and shoving her hand against the door, nearly slamming her body into the glass in her haste to get inside. “Stupid door,” she muttered quickly shifting her fingers to pull the handle and moving to stand in line. She was breathing heavy—too heavy, the man in line ahead of her turning to glance over his shoulder at her with a look of concern. She smiled quickly at him, taking deep breaths to slow her heartrate. She pretended to stare at something on her phone, and after a moment when her breathing had calmed a bit, chanced a glance across the street. The men were still there under her building’s overhang, though they’d returned to their conversation.

Maybe it’d been nothing, she thought. She wasn’t used to being hit on, but maybe that’s all it’d been? He’d called her brown eyes—another nickname. Is that what men did? Gave women nicknames without permission? The thought turned her stomach—it’d felt entirely too intimate with the stranger across the street. Had felt wrong when Elijah had done it at Chevy’s, too. _Can I call you Pops?_ She rolled her eyes at the memory, _darling_. She’d hated it when Julri called her _baby_ , even when he shortened her name to Pops. Never bothered her when Dene did it. Just Julri. And Tora could really call her just about anything, she was sure, because his names for her didn’t make her feel small, less-than or insignificant in the way the others did. He didn’t infantilize her, she realized. That was the fudging difference. And his names for her made her knees weak, dammit. Maybe it was less about the names and more about who was the one saying them, she thought as she approached the register.

“Hi,” Poppy gave the barista a small smile as she stepped up to the counter, recognizing her from the time she’d been here with Tora. “How’s your day go—”

“Hey,” the barista angled her head down, leaning across the counter and lowering her voice, “those guys bothering you?” She nodded once behind Poppy out the window toward the building across the street. “They work for one of our regulars—he was just in here a little while ago with them, said he’d be back for another coffee after a meeting he had, so I can let him know if they were harassing you. He wouldn’t take it lightly.” She stared intently at Poppy, waiting for a response.

Poppy blinked a couple of times, considering. She glanced out the window behind her—they’d seemed to have left. She sighed, “no, it’s okay. I handled it, but thanks,” she smiled warmly at the woman—Madeline, her nametag read, “Madeline. I’m Poppy,” she said extending a hand. “I work across the street.”

Madeline’s mouth fell open slightly as she shook Poppy’s hand. “No shit,” she said softly before seeming to come back to herself. “Sorry, um, what can I get you, Poppy?”

Luckily, the chai didn’t take long at all and Poppy’d quickly made her way back across the street, glancing around in both directions to see if the men were lurking around anywhere. Their cigarettes had been crushed near the door, mere feet away from the smoker’s pole beside the entrance. She couldn’t help but roll her eyes, _figures_. When she’d made it up the elevator and back into the office, she immediately heard Quincey laughing with Erdene from the open door to the conference room.

“Hi, Quincey,” she called out as she rounded the corner to the room, waving at him through the glass a second before she stepped through the door. “So sorry I’m late—you won’t believe—” Poppy stopped dead in her tracks and the chai nearly slipped from her fingers as she met the gaze of the man with the piercings—his companion breaking into a slow smile in the chair beside him.

“Poppy, honey,” Quincey crooned, standing up from where he’d been leaning against the table and striding over to meet her. “I was just telling Dene—I know we’d planned on going over the outline for the manuscript today, but I’m a bit frazzled this week. Not really in the right head space,” he said, waving one hand out while the other drew next to her face, lifting the end of one of her braids gently, skimming her hair between his fingers as he smiled at her. “I won’t be any good to you until after Friday…” he trailed off slightly, noting her poorly concealed shock and following her gaze with a turn of his head. “Oh, where are my manners,” he palmed his forehead with the heel of his hand, shaking his head slightly at himself. “Claude, Scharch,” he gestured first from the pierced man then to his red-haired friend. “Temporary detail while Tora’s…indisposed.” He flipped his palm up toward Poppy, “meet Poppy, my new editor.”

The man with the piercings inclined his head at the way she’d shifted slightly at the sound of Tora’s name, flicking his eyes down to the chai in her hand and back up to her face, letting his eyes drag up her chest. Though she was wearing a turtleneck sweater and high-waisted pants, his gaze made her feel indecent. “Hey, brown eyes. That was a quick meeting. Boyfriend not show?”

She felt rather than saw Erdene’s head whip around, her friend unable to stop a dramatic inhale through her nose.

“Boyfriend?” Quincey muttered to himself, turning to look back at Poppy and gesturing between her and the men at the other end of the table, “wait, you know each other?”

“Met out front. Isn’t that right,” he paused, tilting his head, “Poppy.” His jaw moved to the side, like he was enjoying trying out her name in his mouth. Suddenly, she missed the nickname—didn’t like that he knew her name. Not one bit. He moved forward and Poppy fought the urge to step back and away from him. He extended a hand and after a moment’s hesitation she reached out and grabbed it firmly. He smirked at her grip, releasing her after a shake. The other man—Scharch—had stayed back by the table, an unreadable expression on his face. Wariness, maybe? But she was hardly intimidating, and up until a minute ago, he’d seemed quite at ease, like he knew they had the upper hand over her. He rounded the table as Poppy watched him. Thinking he was coming to shake her hand, she extended her palm toward him, but he brushed past, grabbing Claude just above the elbow and tugging him toward the door. “We’ll be outside,” he said to Quincey. “Text again if you need us.”

Quincey nodded, waiting until they’d exited the office to huff in frustration, rolling his eyes. “Honestly, you’d think it was torture to have to spend time with me.” He whirled back around to face Poppy, “honey, I don’t know what all that was,” he waved his hand in a circle toward the door that the men had just left through, “but I should really head out before they—” he cut himself off suddenly, forcing a smile at Erdene and Poppy. “Ladies, the reason I came today was to personally invite you and yours to a little party I’m throwing in celebration of signing on with your wonderful team. Haven’t even really started working with you and I already feel at home,” he laughed easily.

Poppy smiled, hadn’t been expecting this, but he was right—they _should_ celebrate. “Oh,” Poppy said, wondering if she’d have time to go to Moonbright before Friday. Maybe she could pick up a cake? Erdene raised her eyebrows at her and Quincey ducked his head slightly as they both waited for her to speak. She hadn’t realized she’d said anything. “Sorry, I was just thinking—there’s this bakery back home in Moonbright—they make the best opera cakes. I haven’t had them in so long but I—”

Erdene smiled, patting her on the arm lightly, “Pops, not sure if this is a cake kind of party.”

Poppy turned to Quincey who had a strange smile on his face. He shook his head, seeming to come back to himself, “it’s being catered—I can request a cake though?”

Poppy shook her head—it’d be too much to explain the significance of the cakes from Moonbright. Maybe she’d go this weekend, get one for herself and Tora, if he was back by then.

Quincey looked between them, pulling his phone from his pocket and typing something. “I’ll send a car for you Friday after work—does five work?”

Erdene nodded emphatically, “oh, absolutely. Poppy, you’re free, right?” She didn’t wait for an answer before turning back to Quincey, “Dress code?”

“Honey, anything you wear will look fantastic,” they beamed at each other before he said soberly, “but, cocktail glam.” He glanced meaningfully at Poppy for a second and back at Erdene who nodded two times, grinning deviously. “Well, I should head out. Poppy, honey, I’ll call you about setting something up for next week,” he brushed his fingers over her shoulder as he breezed through the door again, “Ciao,” he called over his shoulder.

As soon as he was in the elevator, Erdene rounded on Poppy. “Okay, bitch. What the _fuck_ was that?” she wheezed, dropping into a chair as Poppy quickly ran to the conference room door, closing it firmly and striding back over to the table to sit beside her friend. There was no use avoiding it anymore. “You knew those guys? And _what_ in the hell is this about a _boyfriend?_ ”

Poppy sighed, turning the chai between her palms. “I didn’t know them,” she said finally. She didn’t like thinking about the way Claude’s gaze had made her feel. Vulnerable. Like prey. “They hit on me outside the building, so I told them I had a boyfriend.”

Erdene’s face fell, “oh. Shit, I’m sorry, Pops.”

Poppy shrugged, taking a sip of the scalding chai and coughing lightly at the burn on her tongue. “It’s fine. They probably weren’t even actually hitting on me. Just didn’t want to talk to them.” A half-truth, but how could she explain to Erdene the unsettling feeling she’d gotten from the men without betraying Tora’s confidence? _I’m in the mafia_. Which meant those men must be, too, right? He’d said that Quincey knew, so even if they weren’t _in_ , they at least had to be aware, had to be a part of some seedy underworld business. Right?

“Mmm.” Erdene shook her head. “Well, with the way the taller one was looking at you, I’d say your gut instinct was probably spot on,” she leaned back in her chair, twirling her tablet pen between her fingers as she assessed her friend. “So. No boyfriend.”

Poppy huffed a laugh, “no boyfriend, Dene.”

“You know,” she said slowly, “you could…tell me, as your best friend. If you, ya know, _felt_ things…or _did_ things with a certain hunky—”

Poppy groaned, letting herself slump exaggeratedly down in the chair and setting the chai on the table as she leaned her head back, her mouth hanging open. She almost laughed—she’d seen Tora do the same thing. Was he rubbing off on her? She blushed at the thought of him rubbing. Her. Rubbing her off. Poppy squeezed her legs together and sat up quickly, bringing her head up to meet Erdene’s gaze. “I don’t know, Dene.” She sighed, thinking of the way he’d left so suddenly. Sex, not just once, and then…out of town indefinitely. A ghost on the wind. Canceled dinner plans. Barely any texts—a phone call goodbye and a photo of a plant. A very cute photo of a plant, but still. _I can be incredibly patient_. Had he gotten what he wanted?

“Pops, what are you thinking?” Erdene was frowning softly at her, “you look like you just fell down your own rabbit hole.”

Poppy swallowed, could feel her face start to crumple. And then Erdene was moving as though in slow motion toward her, arms circling Poppy’s shoulders, their faces suddenly resting against each other. She took a ragged breath, breathing in the sharply feminine scent of her friend’s perfume. Maybe she _was_ getting her period soon, she thought, as her mood swung dramatically in the safety of Erdene’s arms. _Fantastic_. “Hey, hey, hey there now,” Erdene rocked her gently, her voice soft. She held her for several moments until Poppy pulled back—she was being stupid, she knew that. No one had ever treated her with the care, the tenderness, and above all the respect that Tora did. Always had. And an undercurrent of desire ever-present.

“We did it, Dene,” she said slowly, meeting her friend’s eyes who had moved back to her chair in a half-squat, her torso still leaning forward as though Poppy might fall at any moment. “We had sex,” Poppy bit her lip around a small smile—couldn’t help it. She was excited just saying it out loud. She watched as Erdene tried valiantly to stop the grin from sliding up her face, failing miserably. She was breathing so hard as she watched Poppy, and then she frowned slightly, her smile slipping.

“So then, what’s wrong? Something’s wrong, I can tell,” she waited, reaching her hands out to circle Poppy’s wrists which rested in her lap around her phone.

“It’s stupid. I know it’s stupid. It’s nothing,” she said quickly, avoiding Erdene’s eyes.

“What is?” Erdene angled her head so that she could look up at Poppy’s face.

Poppy rolled her head to look at the ceiling, “I’m worried he just—” _used me for the sex_. The words caught in her throat, unable to wrench them from her chest. If she spoke, if she let those words through her teeth, they would be true. Had to be true.

“He just…” Erdene trailed off in question, shaking her head slightly, one lock of lavender hair slipping from where she’d pinned her bangs back behind her ears.

“Dene, it was incredible, every time,” she finally said as Erdene’s eyes widened, her lips mouthing _every time._ “I never thought it could be like that.” She swallowed, choosing her words carefully. “He asked me to dinner and then canceled—you heard Quincey,” her voice lowered in volume as she spoke, “indisposed. Something for work.” She looked down at her hands, still unable to look at her friend’s face, so close to her own. “What if that was it,” she said finally, “the chase is over, he got what he wanted.”

“You can’t be serious,” Erdene said, sitting up, her fingernails digging into Poppy’s wrists.

“Jeez, Dene, watch your—”

“Poppylan Wilkes, get your head out of your ass. That man is infatuated with you—you’ve got him wrapped around your tiny little pinky.” Erdene’s blue eyes burned into her own as Poppy finally met her friend’s gaze in shock at the intensity of her tone. “Fuck, I don’t even know him, and _I_ can see that,” she huffed. When Poppy just continued to stare back at her, bewildered, disbelieving, Erdene groaned, reaching forward and grabbing the phone from between Poppy’s wrists.

“Dene?”

She watched as Erdene unlocked the phone before grimacing and tossing the phone back into Poppy’s lap. “Shit, forgot I deleted them.”

“What?” Poppy looked down at her phone in confusion. What was she talking about?

Erdene sighed, swallowing. “Okay, don’t get mad, but—”

“Dene…”

“— _like I said_ ,” she emphasized, talking over Poppy, “don’t get mad, but your man texted you yesterday morning after you got to work when you gave me your phone to look at the crack.” Poppy felt her mouth fall open, quickly swiping up on the screen a couple times until it registered and opening her messages with Tora.

She shook her head, “Dene, what are you—” The winky face. Poppy slowly blinked, raised her eyes to meet Erdene’s. Narrowed. She’d _deleted_ the messages? What had she said? “What happened.”

Erdene bit her lip, took a deep breath, then rushed out, “he was buying condoms and wanted to know which kind to get.”

The phone slipped from Poppy’s fingers, tumbling to the floor between them just as it buzzed. She lunged for it, breathing hard, blushing at what Erdene had just revealed. So, she’d what? Had an entire conversation with Tora about which condoms he should buy? For him to use with Poppy? Poppy licked her lips quickly, unlocking the phone, unable to stop the smile that stole across her face when she saw that he’d texted her again, two words. Her heart fluttered up around the back of her neck as she tried to steady her breathing.

“Did he just text you?” Erdene asked, biting her lip around a smile, trying her best to look chagrined and, once again, failing fantastically. Poppy schooled her face into something she hoped was expressionless. “Bitch, you were fucking beaming. No way it wasn’t him.” She sighed, clicking her teeth when she realized Poppy wasn’t going to crack. “Fine. I gave him some light suggestions. So, _sue_ me,” she said louder as Poppy gasped. “I just want you to have a good time, Pops—didn’t realize you’d already started fu—”

“Okay.” Poppy cut her off, holding her hands to her ears until Erdene stopped talking, rolling her eyes.

When she’d finally lowered them back to her lap, her phone, Erdene continued, softer, “I don’t doubt for a single second that he’s counting down the _seconds_ until he’s back from whatever work thing he’s doing.” She smiled at Poppy whose look of doubt had started to crack. “And honestly, he doesn’t seem like a man of many words, so not texting all the time might actually be a _good_ thing. If he’s only sending you a couple texts here and there, at least you know they’re intentional, meaningful. Whatever the fuck he just sent you clearly made you happy.”

Poppy glanced down at her screen, the two words he’d written in response to her selfie.

@Tora: _fuckin gorgeous_

“Hey, you said he had to cancel dinner, so you’re free tonight, right?” Erdene patted Poppy’s knee, smirking at her.

“What…” Poppy narrowed her eyes. Erdene had that mischievous look on her face.

“Well, you clearly need something to wear…” she trailed off as Poppy sighed, reaching to the table to take a sip of her chai, burning her tongue again on the hot liquid. How had it not cooled off at all? Erdene was right, though. Aside from the black dress she still had to return to her friend, she didn’t have anything that fit Quincey’s _cocktail glam_ specifications. And she wouldn’t need to save her funds quite so fastidiously the rest of the week, knowing she was getting the bonus and the raise on Friday.

“Fine, but!” she held up a finger as Erdene’s eyes lit up. “It needs to be something I’m comfortable wearing _and_ something I could see myself wearing more than just once.”

“Absolutely, fair enou—” At that moment, they both turned their heads to the glass wall of the conference room to the sound of Gil’s knuckles rapping on the window moments before he opened the door.

“Erdene, Mr. Rose is on the line—wants to talk cover samples.” Erdene leaned her head back, taking a deep breath.

“Honestly, I think at this point I’m just gonna _say_ I made the changes just to see what happens. How much you wanna bet he’d love it without any of his own damn edits.”

“Erdene.”

“Gil.” Poppy smiled at the exchange, watching as they both left the room to head to the call—Jacob’s client had proven to be quite difficult indeed.

Poppy turned her attention back to her phone, quickly opening the text again. She debated whether or not to text him back, was just about to lock her phone to head to her desk when Erdene’s words came back to her. _Infatuated with you_. She bit the inside of her mouth around a smirk, quickly typing a message to him at the memory of their first date and standing up. She should update Mr. Lam on the timeline of the project—if she wasn’t going to be able to meet with Quincey until next week, it’d push her rough estimates off by a bit, and the man definitely didn’t like surprises. As she was on her way back to her desk, her phone buzzed and she smiled when she read the message, quickly tapping on the photo.

@Poppylan: I showed you mine…

@Tora: pushy hamster  
@Tora: [image]  
@Tora: bullshit says hi

He’d sent a shaky selfie, grainy in low lighting, his face partially cut off as he held up the plant in a gloved hand—she almost laughed at how ridiculous the small succulent looked cradled in his large palm, but her face fell at his expression. He looked sweaty, the cheek that was visible shining in the dim lighting. Bits of hair had escaped from beneath his black baseball cap, plastered to the sides of his face. The corner of his mouth was pulled up slightly—an almost imperceptible smirk she was sure most people probably wouldn’t detect. But she’d gotten better at reading him—could see from the eye not in shadow of his brim that he was humoring her. The teasing light that normally accompanied his banter had been replaced by a hollow look—devoid of emotion, like he’d tucked himself away somewhere deep inside himself. She wanted desperately to be able to touch him—had seen this look before in the times he was most quiet. Had been able to pull him back with her hands, her fingers on his skin, loved how strongly he responded to the physical connection. She again thought of his hands, the way he seemed unable to stop himself from touching her, like he craved the contact. Skin-to-skin. Some kind of balm working at wounds deeper than any aloe plant could fix, no matter how cute.

And he’d taken the plant with him—she felt the burn of tears at the back of her throat. She hoped he was okay, that he’d be okay. She’d never seen him in gloves before—maybe it was just cold wherever he was—but she couldn’t help but remember the look on his face on her kitchen floor. The way he’d clutched her to him when he’d realized she wasn’t going to kick him out over the gun. _The gun_. Poppy swallowed the burn, quickly typing a message back to him.

@Poppylan: Kiss him for me.

She hesitated, then typed another.

@Poppylan: Bring him back in one piece.

The last one was less for the plant and more for him—she hoped he’d know that. She’d let herself push the gun from her mind—what it meant that he carried it. And not just one. _A few_. She wondered how much he wasn’t saying, had noticed the way he edged carefully around the topic. His answers limited to a handful of words, vague. The impression of being open without actually sharing that much at all. But maybe that came with the territory of being in the mafia. What if he’d been a part of some serious crimes? Could she get in trouble if he shared certain things? Poppy looked out the window behind her desk, finding Pudge on the ledge of the building. Tora was clearly a force to be reckoned with, and it wasn’t that difficult to imagine his body as capable of violence. She tapped the image again, pulling up the photo. His hand cupped gently around the belly of the dinosaur. He’d brought the plant with him, had buckled him in like she’d said, half-joking, had named the little pot of aloe. She looked up at the pigeon as he moved from one end of the ledge to the other. _‘Sup, Pudge_. She smiled softly at the memory. How could the man who’d introduced himself to a pigeon at her request, who loved strawberries so much that he ate the stems, who let her drink from his glass, who’d gingerly tried a piece of her Twizzler even though he’d clearly hated it, who held every door open for her, who cradled her so softly against the place where she could feel his heart beat, who’d detangled her hair with more tenderness than she’d imagined possible—how could he be capable of violence? She didn’t want to believe it, but she’d seen the way Gyu shook under his glare, the way Claude had carefully avoided him at the bar despite seeming interested in what he was doing. The way he’d silenced Quincey with a word. Commanding. Like he had a reputation. _Gotta maintain my image, Bobby_.

Poppy shook her head slightly, turning to her computer and grabbing one of the bottles of CBD, placing a dropper-full under her tongue where she held the oil against her teeth. There was no use dwelling on it now, especially since she didn’t even know when he’d be back—she’d only worry more about where he was, if he was safe. What had called him away from her. The fresh scars on his neck. She shuddered, turning back to her work, trying to push his image from her mind.

*

Poppy fiddled with the neckline of the dress, checking her reflection in the bathroom mirror of the office. She’d insisted the red outfit had been too much for the party when she’d tried it on Wednesday night with Erdene, but her friend had pushed back, quoting Quincey, _cocktail glam_. She sighed lightly—the dress _was_ nice, maybe the nicest she owned. A deep burgundy, the fabric heavy—clearly well-made—draping out from the sash cinched around her waist to just above her knees. She was nervous about the neckline—though it wasn’t quite as revealing as the black dress Erdene had loaned her, it still plunged between her breasts, a slip of bare skin that cut like a V from her collarbones down to a point just above the sash. Erdene had helped her pick out a backless bra that stuck to her skin uncomfortably beneath the halter top, her back completely exposed. She again considered putting on the cardigan she’d worn to work which sat on the counter beside the sink, piled on top of the rest of the clothes she’d left her apartment in that morning. Erdene would kill her if she covered up, she knew, but maybe she could get away with wearing her jacket, at least until they arrived at the party? The temperature had dipped towards the end of the week and, just last night, Poppy had dug out her high-necked peacoat from the depths of her closet, sighing sadly at the end of the warm temperatures. It’d be snowing soon—Erdene had wasted no time after Poppy moved in complaining to her about how quickly the city transitioned from summer to winter.

Poppy let her hands fall to the fabric just below her breasts, looking up to meet her own gaze. She wondered what Tora would think if he could see her in the dress—she hoped he’d like it. Even though he wouldn’t be seeing her tonight, she’d bought it with the intention of showing him some other time. A small smile wormed its way across her face as she imagined the look on his face—he’d practically been speechless when he’d seen her in the yellow dress, filling her with butterflies and warmth. How’d he always manage to do that? She tilted her head at her reflection, her hair spilling in soft waves down her back, around her shoulders—for the first time she thought she might actually see whatever he always claimed to, remembering the look in his molten gaze, lit by the flickering birthday candles as he reached a thumb out to her nose, _pretty_.

Poppy turned her head toward the door as Erdene banged on the other side, “hey, Pops—you good in there? You better not be hiding under that frumpy sweater,” she called.

Poppy rolled her eyes, quickly gathering her clothes and slipping her purse over her head so that the strap lay between her breasts, readjusting slightly. The leather felt strange on her skin—only one person had ever touched her there, and she wasn’t used to the sensation of being so exposed.

She opened the door, quickly brushing past Erdene whose hand flew out securing Poppy’s wrist in a vice as she stopped her friend in her tracks. “Dene, please don—”

“Holy motherfucking shit, Pops,” she said, her eyes wide and a smile lighting up her face, “you looked hot when you first tried it on but damn, that fitting room did _not_ do you justice,” she squealed, holding Poppy’s arm out to the side and turning her friend slightly so she could see the back of the dress. “Oooooh, someone is gonna lose his damn mind,” she said softly to herself as she reached her other hand out to adjust the skirt of the dress.

Poppy frowned. “What?”

“Hmm?” Erdene hummed, looking back at Poppy’s face as she turned around to face her, taking in her friend’s outfit—outrageously beautiful as ever. Erdene was wearing black thigh high boots and a black mini dress under an oversized pastel blazer, hair perfectly done up in a bun, her own bag slung over her shoulder. She shook her head slightly, “oh, nothing.” Erdene led her by the elbow back toward Poppy’s desk so she could put the clothes down before they left. “Oh hey,” Erdene said again, watching as Poppy flitted between the computer and a stack of manuscripts she’d nervously stacked and restacked throughout the day. “Quincey’s sending a car, but Damien’s picking me up. I let him know,” she said with a gleam in her eyes. “I’ll see you there, okay?”

Poppy felt her mouth fall open slightly—she hadn’t been expecting to have to go alone. She drew a breath to say as much, but stopped herself, realizing this was probably a date night for them—she’d already crashed one of them. Didn’t want to step on Erdene’s toes. Poppy nodded.

“Great,” Erdene beamed at her. It was a little strange she was so happy, but maybe she was just excited to get some time alone with the pink-haired man. Over the last week, she’d noticed that Erdene had brought him up more and more, and that her talk of other men had all but stopped completely. Poppy was happy for her, she was. Just wished she could have the same with Tora. “I think Jacob already headed out, so once the car gets here you should be all set to lock up. See you soon, bitch,” she said dropping a kiss to the air beside Poppy’s face before whirling around, drawing her phone up to her ear as she exited the office, “Mmm. Hello to you, too, stud,” she murmured. “What’re you wearing—” the door swung shut behind her and Poppy was left standing by her desk, half-considering just going home as her phone buzzed in her hand.

@Mr. Noyouko: Hi, honey. Car just left, sorry for the delay. Should arrive in a minute.

Her thumbs hovered over the screen, typing out an apology—she wasn’t going to be able to make it after all…but she stopped midway as she caught sight of herself in the reflection of the window. She _did_ look good. And just because Erdene had a date didn’t mean she couldn’t enjoy herself. It was a celebration of one of her biggest career accomplishments anyway. She erased the message, replacing it with an affirmative before shrugging on her jacket, looking around the office once, flicking the lights and making to lock the door behind her as Jacob came barreling around the corner from the hall that led to the copy room.

“Shit, sorry, Poppy,” he called as she dropped the keys in surprise. He joined her at the door, bending down quickly to retrieve the keys and hand them back to her.

“Jacob? Erdene said you’d left…”

“Oh, yeah.” He said, running a hand through his hair before fixing his glasses and adjusting the button down he was wearing. “I did, but then Megan texted—something came up, can’t make it tonight,” he shrugged as Poppy made a sympathetic sound. She knew he’d been looking forward to seeing his girlfriend—Megan frequently worked long hours at the station. “It’s okay,” he said, patting her once on the shoulder as she locked the office. “Erdene already leave?” he asked as they made their way down to the lobby in the elevator.

“Yeah, bae picked her up,” she giggled.

“So, that’s like a serious thing now?” he asked, tilting his head at their reflections in the metal doors. Poppy shrugged. If Erdene hadn’t told him much about Damien, she certainly wasn’t going to. Besides, Erdene had been pretty tight-lipped about the pink-haired man anyway, which Poppy had taken to mean that he was different than her usual rotating roster of suitors.

“Quincey called a car for me,” she said as they stepped off the elevator, opening her purse to tuck the keys and phone away beside the condoms she’d yet to take out of the bag, “you want a ride?”

Jacob nodded as he checked the time on his phone, walking a couple paces behind Poppy as she pushed open the front door to the building. She looked to her left, eyes lingering on the cigarette butts that were still on the ground from the men in the suits, a bit waterlogged since the rain earlier that week. She frowned slightly at the sight before turning her head to the right, glancing down the street until her gaze fell on the luxury car parked haphazardly, one tire on the curb, the rear of the vehicle sticking out dangerously close to the street. Her heart nearly stopped as she watched the driver’s side door open, one foot followed by the other as he pulled himself from the low seat, his hair looked damp, pulled up into a bun on top of his head, off the shoulders of his suit jacket. He’d foregone a tie—opting instead for a monochrome ensemble, the top couple buttons of his black dress shirt undone—even from where she stood frozen in front of the door to her building, she could see his throat move as he swallowed, her eyes finally dragging up his neck to his face, his gaze molten, sending heat straight to her core.

She took a step toward him as he rounded the trunk, hopping up onto the sidewalk in one fluid motion, like some kind of force was pulling her to him, him to her. A second later—how’d he reached her so fast?—his arm was around her, pressing her against his chest with one palm to the small of her back as his other hand ran up along her neck, cradled the back of her neck as he angled her face up to his, his lips hard against hers. Poppy let herself fall into him, her hands fisting the material of his jacket at his back as she kissed him back, her mouth opening to his tongue, warm and insistent against her own. He tasted of mint and pepper—an intoxicating combination of spice that mingled with the scent of a sharp smelling soap like cedar—not his usual earthy, smoky scent, but she didn’t mind it at all, his body, his warmth around her making her heady. The feeling of coming home—he was safe, in her arms. She’d check him for wounds like the ones on his neck later, but for now, he was here, pressing into her, her body melting into his as his thumb stroked her cheek, his palm running up and down her back slow as she pulled him tighter against her body. There was nothing else in this moment.

Someone cleared their throat loudly from behind her and after a moment Tora pulled his mouth from hers, drawing his lips once to her cheek and peering into her eyes with the smallest smile before flicking his gaze to the source of the noise, not moving his face away from hers as he glared at Jacob. She watched his nostrils flare and his jaw tense as Jacob spoke, his words careful, hesitant, “I can just…sit in the back.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ate through three packs of strawberries writing this lmaoooo 🍓🍓🍓 
> 
> Music: wrote listening to Vicktor Taiwò's Juno EP on repeat 😊
> 
> **begins sap** On an entirely different and personal note, and at the risk of over-sharing, I stopped drinking alcohol at the beginning of the year and started writing this fanfic every night as one way of substituting something healthy into the void that not-drinking left in my routine. (I’m talking 3-5 a night, every goddamn night. Exercising compulsively without rest days to make up for my alcohol consumption. V v unhealthy all around.) Had been trying to cut back for the better part of 2020 with no success, lying to myself about how bad it was, so much internal shame. Needless to say, joining this community, writing this fic has been—fuck, I really can’t even describe what it’s meant to me. Transformative for my mental and physical health, for my soul. So thank you for your comments, your encouragement. For reading, giving me a reason to stick with it. When I say it means the world to me—know that it means the *whole goddamn* world to me. Much, much love to you all. I hope you’re doing okay out there, and if you’re struggling, you’re definitely not alone. **end of sap**
> 
> Ch. 27: *sings* reunited and it feels so good??


	27. Tiger of Ares Street

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tora does what he was conditioned to do. A bomb is dropped.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: graphic depictions of violence and gore / aftermath of abuse
> 
> Not what I thought this chapter would be, but it had to happen. Challenging to write for an entirely new set of reasons, namely not knowing the first thing about weaponry or smoking. That being said…don’t hate me too much 😬😬😬 *covers eyes and runs away*
> 
> Thank you thank you thank you for all your messages of support on the last chapter—I’m in a good headspace now, *worlds* better than where I was on NYE 2020 ❤️ so much love to you all ❤️
> 
> As always, characters belong to the real MVP Lilydusk, brilliant creator of Midnight Poppy Land. Support her on Patreon! https://www.patreon.com/lilydusk

**Chapter 27**

Tora removed his hat, placing it on the rafter beside the rifle he’d set up in front of his flattened position, his body extended, pressed against the sheet of metal he’d found that was miraculously wide enough to accommodate both his large frame and his weapon which he’d aimed at the entrance to the empty warehouse. He’d nestled the little aloe plant close to his ribs, tucked just under his elbow, like a fragile bird, not wanting to leave it in the car, but worried now at the potential drop if he accidentally knocked it over. Tora carefully rolled over onto his back, running his hand over his head until it caught in the loosened strawberry tie, drawing it out of his hair and resecuring it into the ponytail that had come loose after climbing up into his perch just below the ceiling. It was so fuckin’ hot up here—was sweatin’ his goddamned balls off, and he knew he was in for quite the wait if the old man had been telling the truth. He better’ve been tellin’ the fuckin’ truth, Tora thought darkly. Not like he could question him again. Tora rolled back onto his stomach, picking up his sweat-soaked hat and putting it back on his head, pulling the ponytail through the hole at the back.

He really wished he’d chosen different clothes—less layers, lighter colors—but he’d rather be safe than sorry if he was seen while carrying out Vincent’s orders. Not exactly like it’d be a secret as to which one of Vincent’s men had brutalized the Ninedaggers members who’d encroached on the northern neutral border, but he certainly didn’t need any hard evidence against him if someone were to ID his tattoos. So, he’d worn a high-necked black shirt and a hoodie, black jeans, dark brown sneakers, and his hat. The dark colors would help cover any stains, but fuck, all the layers were makin’ him fuckin’ light-headed. For some reason, the northern parts of the city were experiencing one last warm front, unlike the south. Hadn’t anticipated how miserable the weather would be. Figured everything about the trip would be fuckin’ terrible. Glancing to his side, he hoped that Bull would be okay. Still wasn’t sure how to take care of him. He clenched his jaw—takin’ him on a murder mission probably wasn’t the best idea he’d ever had. _Ya stupid, sentimental sucker_.

Tora heard a car pass by outside, and he held his breath, listening intently and aligning his eye with the sight. After a moment, the air stilled, settling heavy around him as he exhaled. Shit, he was on motherfuckin’ edge, needed a goddamn smoke. He thought back to earlier that morning, just before dawn as he’d entered the old man’s home, one of the locations on the list. The man had been alone, asleep on his couch, the TV still on, a couple open cans of beer on the table beside him. It’d been almost too easy getting answers from him. Bloodless, thank fuck. The man had immediately pissed himself at Tora’s arm around his neck from behind, had confirmed his name along with all the others on the list—even given him a couple more that Vincent hadn’t known about. Tora wasn’t sure what to do with that information. On the one hand, if Vincent knew, he’d order them dead, too, and Tora really didn’t want to repeat the mission. The old man had given him the warehouse location—apparently all the men reported to a woman. Said she stopped here every day around noon, a mutual drop spot where she was able to check the progress of her men into the neutral area. Once he’d gotten everything he needed, Tora hadn’t felt too bad about breaking the man’s neck—fuckin’ rat had turned faster than anyone he’d ever come across. Fuck.

As he relaxed slightly, his elbow nudged the dinosaur pot—immediately, Tora’s arm shot out winging against his side, cradling the plant to his lats again. Fuck, he’d really need to find out how to care for it. There was no way he could keep bringing him around everywhere he went. Still didn’t know how much to even water him. Tora’d packed a couple extra bottles in his bag just in case, though. Should be okay, at least through Friday—only two more days until he could see her. Technically just a little under fifty-four hours, but fuck, that made it sound way longer than it actually was. He could survive a couple days, shit. Still felt fuckin’ terrible about having to cancel their date tonight. Wanted nothing more than to be back in the southern part of the city— _her_ part of the city—looking forward to dinner at her place. Again, he found himself wondering what it might be like to be normal, but it was difficult with his arms looped around a rifle, body pressed flat against the metal sheet between two beams of the warehouse rafters.

His phone buzzed loud against the metal beside him—shit, how’d he forgotten to silence it? Cause. he was fuckin’ distracted, that’s how—unlike him. He unlocked it, pulling up his messages and smiling soft against his teeth seeing she’d sent him a photo. He tapped on it, but the thing wouldn’t fuckin’ load. He closed his eyes on a slow exhale—never had good fuckin’ signal up in this area, and for whatever reason, his phone barely had a single bar beneath the roof of the hot fuckin’ sweatbox of a warehouse, goddammit. The fuck was the point of the generator across the room if it didn’t even fuckin’ cool the building? Fuckin’ useless metal box. He propped himself up on his elbows, glancing back under his arm to make sure Bull was okay before holding his phone up toward the roof, squinting against the sweat on his brow. As his arm started to shake, the photo loaded, and he nearly dropped it over the edge. “Fuck!” He quickly fumbled it back onto the metal in front of him, feeling the breath leave his lungs on a whoosh—goddamn, she was beautiful. Poppy’d sent him a photo of herself, looked like she was standing outside the drugstore by her work. What he wouldn’t give to be there with her. Her hair was slightly frizzed around her head—looked like it might be raining. Why didn’t she have her umbrella? he wondered idly, smiling down at her. Cute fuckin’ hamster. He typed out a response and hit send, hoping it’d go through—needed it to go through, needed her to know he’d seen it, that he thought she was fuckin’ gorgeous.

Tora held the phone above his head again for a minute, the red error message appearing every time he tapped the _retry_ button. The fuck was the point of the goddamn button if it didn’t fuckin’ work? Fuck, should he climb down? He glanced at the time. Still had a little bit before noon. What were the odds the woman would arrive early? He hesitated another minute. Fuck it, it’d be fine. He had plenty of fuckin’ time. Carefully, he moved Bull up beside the bipod, resting the stock on the metal sheet while he slid himself toward the edge. He considered leaving the rifle mounted in the rafters, but shit, he wasn’t a dumbass, certainly wasn’t lazy, and he sure as shit wasn’t gonna allow any fuck-ups—he had a Bobby waitin’ for him. Would be just his luck leaving a weapon unattended would come back to bite him in the ass. He sat up on his knees, slinging the rifle over his back and moving along the edge of the metal until he’d reached the intersecting beam.

This was the part that’d gotten his so goddamn sweaty before—luckily the palms of his gloves were lined with rubber grips or he probably would’ve slid right the fuck off. He took a deep breath, engaging his core and dropping off the side slowly until he was in a bent arm hang, his elbows forming right angles, biceps and triceps flexing perpendicular to his forearms as he moved carefully down the beam, fingers pressed together and gripping the metal as he made his way down to the wall where the generator sat beside, which he’d used to hop up onto the rafter. He almost laughed at what Bobby’d say if she could see him doin’ this—somethin’ about protein shakes for sure—but his face immediately sobered at the feel of the sling around his chest, the dead weight of the rifle bumping between his shoulder blades with each of his arm’s steady movements. The gloves on his hands, his body outfitted entirely in black—knew he looked like a shady fucker up to no fuckin’ good. Never wanted her to see him like this.

When he was over the generator, Tora pushed his left foot against the wall before dropping near-silently against the metal despite his bulk, dispersing his weight across his hands and feet, the rifle hitting him in the ass once as he waited. Silence. He pulled himself up into a low crouch facing the warehouse door, glancing back up to the bipod he’d left up in the rafters—the spikey leaves of Bull just barely visible from his lower position—before pulling out the phone from his back pocket. He unlocked it—the text still hadn’t fuckin’ sent, goddamit. He held the device up above his head for a minute, turning slightly from side to side every fifteen seconds as his eyes flicked from his outstretched hand to the door. Shit. He was really gonna have to climb all the way the fuck down to the ground. Tora pocketed the phone, clenching his jaw in frustration. How come his phones never fuckin’ worked—was Ronzo purposely pickin’ the worst fuckin’ ones?

He lifted his hat slightly, wiping the sweat that had trickled from his scalp down his brow, huffing slightly as he slid over to the edge of the generator, kicking his legs over the side as he palmed the top of the metal surface with one hand, turning mid-air as he jumped down so that he faced the side of the metal box when he landed, knees bent to absorb the impact. Silent. He drew his weapon of choice from his waistband—the handgun he normally kept under the passenger seat of his car when he was driving, a silencer affixed to the end now—fisting it in both hands as he peered around the side toward the entrance of the warehouse. Still quiet. He felt his phone buzz in his pocket—shit, he thought he’d muted the fuckin’ thing, was sure he had. Transferring the gun to one hand, he drew out his phone from his back pocket—a text from Quincey. He unlocked the device—thank fuck, his message to Bobby had finally gone through. Fuckin’ good, he thought, glancing up at the metal sheet where he knew the bipod rested beside the plant. From this angle he could no longer see either of them. Turning his attention back to his phone, he opened his conversation with Quincey.

@Quince: Need you back by 4 sharp on Friday, that still work?

Tora rolled his eyes, huffing a sigh. So the fucker was still holding his fuckin’ party. Fan-fuckin’-tastic. Tora’s fingers shook as he typed a brief response, taking a deep breath. He really needed a fuckin’ smoke—could feel the veins popping in his head, in his neck from the stress. Probably the heat, too, but fuck, a cigarette would really fuckin’ help right about now. As he was considering slipping out of the warehouse to jog to his car where he’d parked a little ways out back, he heard the sound of tires on gravel. _Shit_. He slipped the phone back in his pocket, retreating into the shadow of the generator and widening his stance into a slight crouch, gun gripped tight in both hands, aimed at the ground slightly in front of him. He listened intently, stilling his breathing as he licked his lips. If this was the woman, she was real fuckin’ early. Maybe the old fucker had lied to him, sent him into a trap. Fuck. Tora glanced back up at the metal sheet across the rafters—no way was he abandoning Bull up there. Goddammit. He’d intended to get the jump on her from above, incapacitating her and anyone else she might be with—his new position on the ground set him at a disadvantage if she wasn’t alone. There was only so much the element of surprise could help if she’d brought others. And that was assuming it was, in fact, the woman from the list. Shit.

He heard a door slam shut, waiting to see if there were more—nope. Just the one. Footsteps on the gravel, a woman’s voice, “I don’t know what to tell you, John. I haven’t heard from him.” Her footsteps paused for a moment before continuing, growing louder as she approached the entrance to the warehouse. “No. No, I just—” she paused again, and Tora listened to the locks sliding on the heavy door, patting himself on the back internally for remembering to secure them from the inside after he’d arrived. Tora sucked his lip between his teeth, swallowing as he felt the familiar chill creep down his spine—a skill he’d developed over the many years of Vincent’s brutal conditioning, could feel his emotions burrowing into his spine where they’d hide until the violence was over. He’d learned to visualize his kid-self crawling away deep inside—his bones, the hard shelter needed to shield himself—where no one, not even Vincent, could find him, could pull him out. It was fuckin’ stupid, he knew, to picture himself as a kid slipping into the spaces of his spinal column, but it fuckin’ worked. Not like he’d ever told anyone, so it really didn’t matter how stupid it sounded.

“Shit, you know I can’t come home early toni—” the door to the warehouse slid open loudly, drowning out her voice for a couple moments until she was walking inside, shoes clacking on the concrete. “You know why.”

Tora heard something thud against the ground as she walked slowly—sounded almost like she was pacing or going in a circle, the clicks of her heels drawing closer and then further away, close then far. _Yeah_ , he thought after a moment, _some kind of circle_. “How is it, John—no, John. Listen to me. How is it that every goddamn time the sitter cancels—every time,” she broke off on a huff, breathing heavily. Tora frowned, _a sitter?_ _Like a chair?_ What the fuck was she talkin’ about? Did it have to do with Goliath? With the old man? “ _How is it_ ,” she raised her voice, “that every time the babysitter cancels, it’s _my job_ to drop everything and get home while you play your fucking game? You’re in the _same goddamn house_ ,” she shouted, emphasizing the last three words as her voice echoed around the empty room, bouncing off the metal surfaces. Tora’s blood had run cold, though, couldn’t really track what the fuck she’d said after he’d heard the word. Not a fuckin’ chair. A person. A babysitter. For watchin’ kids and shit. Which meant she had a kid young enough to need watching, meant this John fucker was probably family. She had a family. A kid. Tora closed his eyes for the briefest of moments, collecting himself, straightening his spine on a soft inhale. Didn’t matter. It _couldn’t_ fuckin’ matter. He had a job. It was kill or be killed, and he had a Bobby to protect now. His eyes flicked to the metal sheet where he knew Bull rested next to the bipod. “I told you, they found him on his fucking couch.” She took a breath. “ _Yes,_ I’m sure it was Will. Balthuman definitely knows.” She paused her walking and Tora tilted his head in the shadows, peering slowly around the generator. “Don’t know who they sent, thought it might be the tiger but the house was clean. No.” She paused. “No blood.”

She was average height, on the curvier side. Brown hair pulled back into a braid. He quickly pulled his head back, heart beating faster. Shit, her hair was almost the same color as Bobby’s—much shorter, but now he was thinking of his Bobby in this woman’s shoes. His Bobby in trouble, being hunted without even knowing it. This woman didn’t even know it. Had no clue the tiger she was talking about lurked in the darkness behind her. Biding his time, waiting for just the right moment. Bobby had no idea either, of what he was capable of. _Tiger of Ares Street_. Fuck. What would she say if she could see him now, his face a dark mask, shadowed by his hat, rifle strapped to his back and gun drawn, ready to shoot a woman—a mother—in the back. What, had he really thought taking care of a plant would change who he was? _Impossible to kill. Like, you’d have to really try._ A sick fuckin’ monster.

“That’s what I’m _saying_ , John,” the woman said quietly, her voice echoing faintly in the empty warehouse. “So, I really need you to take the reins tonight. I’m finishing up a drop right now, but after this, I’ve got to get to the meatpa—” she cut off abruptly as Tora connected a couple dots. He was pretty sure she’d been about to say meatpacking plant, which the old man had confirmed as the last location on the list. “Yeah, Will’s boys. Gonna be devastated.” Tora frowned, steadying himself. Though it wasn’t as hot as it’d been near the roof, he could still feel the sweat dripping down his brow, along his nose. Little wet dots along the concrete where they fell from his face. He needed to wait until she was off the phone—sounded like this John was connected as well, couldn’t have him alerting any of the others on the list. Vaguely, Tora wondered if John was one of the additional names the old man had given him—had he sold out this woman’s family? He felt disgust again, but, shit, he was the fuckin’ executioner, no better than the man who’d pissed himself in fear, desperate to give the tiger what he wanted, anything for the chance to survive the encounter.

Tora lifted a hand from the grip of the gun, checking the silencer with his fingers before wrapping his hand back into place around his other. As soon as she hung up. He took a breath—technically, he should ask her about the boys, the meatpacking plant. See if he could get any more information. But the old man had given him more than enough to go off of. He could afford a mercy kill. Quick, one shot to the back of the head. Be like passing out but with less warning. She’d never know what hit her. He swallowed as he heard her say a quick goodbye, ending the call. Was about to take a kid’s mother, could feel his inner self trying to climb from his spine in panic at what he was about to do.

He shook his head once, gritting his teeth. _Just fuckin’ do it._ As he stepped from the shadows, striding agile and silent up behind the woman, raising his weapon, he thought of Bobby’s sweatshirt, from the night he’d first met her, _why can’t someone else just—_ Tora aimed, his hand wavering slightly as he pointed at her braid, bracing his shoulders. Squeezed.

A warm, red spray as she dropped to her knees, her body crumpling to the floor, face hitting the concrete with a sickening crack from the force of the bullet as the blood spurted from her head with each pulse of her heart—the organ now set to a countdown as the liquid pushed out along the floor. Her phone, cracked from the fall, still illuminated on the home screen—the face of a toddler smiling up at him, quickly surrounded by a lake of her blood. He clenched his jaw, it was time to go, had to get out of here. Tora turned, wiping the gun along the inside of his jacket before tucking it back into his waistband, the adrenaline pounding in his veins helping him make quick work of climbing back up onto the generator, hoisting himself back up into a bent arm hang as he pulled himself by the strength of his shoulders across the beam until he was back atop the metal sheet. He spared a glance at Bull, tightening his jaw as he quickly opened the rifle case, removing the weapon from his back and packing everything away, as though on autopilot, not really registering the movements of his hands as he reached for the bipod. He looked around quickly, swiping the back of his hand along his hairline, checking the area for anything he may have missed, pulling out his phone to check the time when he saw that Poppy had texted him. His hands, which he now realized had been shaking, steadied slightly as he tapped on the message.

@Bobby: I showed you mine…

He swallowed, his stomach churning. Knew what she was asking, knew the night she was referencing, too. Their texts before Regina’s Peak, the photo she’d sent of herself half-undressed before he’d seen her naked. Before he’d known the feel of her bare skin against his, the softness of her body cradled in his arms. Couldn’t bring himself to smile, the woman’s body still leaking weakly across the floor below on the other side of the room. Couldn’t let Bobby know anything was wrong, though. He opened the camera app, picking Bull up gingerly, cradling him in his palm as he brought the plant to his face and turning the phone around to snap a picture of himself. He frowned in disgust when he flipped the phone over in his hand to examine the photo—the left side of his face was sprayed red, not a lot, but enough. He looked miserable, too. Fuck, he _was_ miserable, but she didn’t need to fuckin’ know that. There was a fuckin’ reason, after all, why he hadn’t told her exactly what his assignment was, what had called him away from dinner at her place later that night. He quickly turned the phone around again, holding Bull back up to his face and offering the camera a small smile. _Better_ , he thought, looking at the photo. Looked like shit, but at least the dim light helped hide the fact that he clearly wasn’t fuckin’ okay.

He thumbed a message to her, attaching the photo and hit send, looking down at the plant beside him before sending her another.

@Tora: pushy hamster   
@Tora: [image]   
@Tora: bullshit says hi

He pocketed the phone, hoping that by the time he got to the car the shit would send, then grabbed the strap of the rifle case, slinging it over his back. He zipped up his jacket, tucking Bullony in the space of his jacket where the strap hugged his chest, making sure the plant was firmly secure before repeating the process of climbing back across the room. The old man hadn’t been clear about when the others would be at the abandoned meatpacking plant—he’d made it sound like a place they just hung out, but if Ninedaggers were anything like the Balthuman Clan, its members didn’t sit around doin’ jack shit all day. That was shit that kids did—new recruits who hadn’t yet been indoctrinated fully into clan life. No way was a neutral territory takeover bein’ led by a bunch of fuckin’ kids. It’d sounded like the woman was supposed to meet them tonight. Couldn’t be sure, though. Maybe he should’ve questioned her after all, he thought as he approached her body, taking care to avoid stepping in the blood. Knew he wouldn’t have to worry about cops with the Sheriff’s office so firmly in Vincent’s pocket, but didn’t want to tempt fate either.

As he made to walk past her, he paused, debating whether he should clean up the body. On the one hand, a cleanup would all but ensure her family would never truly know what happened to her, maybe save them some pain? But no, it’d probably hurt worse to not know. Shit—he thought of the toddler on the screen. He’d always wondered what’d happened to his parents—it was the not knowing that’d kept him up at night for so many years. Why hadn’t they come to save him from Vincent, why had they abandoned him and Goliath? Left them to the streets? No, he decided, turning from her, let the kid know what’d happened, that she hadn’t walked out on them.

*

Tora’s hands shook on the wheel as he sped back south toward the heart of Balthuman territory, couldn’t control the shudders that rippled through his body, down his spine every few seconds as he fought to keep the car straight. He’d flipped all the mirrors as soon as he’d thrown himself down into the driver’s seat, having caught a glimpse of his face, large swathes of blood drying with his sweat, the hair that had fallen from the ponytail matted with it, plastered red against his neck, practically glowing in the fiery light of the setting sun through the passenger window as Friday drew to a close. He breathed heavily, eyes drawn every few seconds to the pack of cigarettes in the center console. He glanced at the seat beside him where Bull was buckled in, the pot streaked with blood. Shit, he wasn’t gonna make it. _I’m sorry, sweetheart_ , he thought, one hand darting out for the pack and nearly dropping it as his hand shook violently, _fuck_. Tora pulled off to the side of the road quickly, slamming on the brakes as he yanked open the flap, fingers leaving bright red smears across the white packaging, pulling one from box and tucking it between his lips around a shuddered exhale, the burn at the back of his throat swelling, swelling up his throat until the sob let from behind his tongue in a loud, full-bodied gasp. Couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t fuckin’ breathe. Tora threw open his door, unbuckling and making to swing his feet from the car before he remembered his shoes. Didn’t want to track blood everywhere, and they were fuckin’ saturated with it, could feel his toes sliding around in his wet socks.

As he scrabbled for the cigarettes again, he felt a pain in his chest just as his stomach roiled—fuck, no. Not again. He threw his head back against the seat, focusing on taking deep breaths, on trying to shake the numbness from his fingers as he flipped the cigarettes over and over in his hands, his eyes finding the dent above him. He reached a shaking hand up, stopping abruptly at the blood caked in the creases of his skin—he’d taken the gloves off, when? Sometime shortly after he’d made it back to the car, the material soaked through with the blood of the boys. _The boys_. Kids. They’d just been fuckin’ kids—Tora closed his eyes hard against the image of the meatpacking plant, the carnage he’d left behind. Hadn’t meant— _fuck_ , hadn’t intended any of it. Had planned a long-range hit, but they’d gotten the jump on him, he’d been distracted. Fuckin’ distracted. Again. And his body had reacted immediately and furiously at the assault. Hadn’t even thought about the first couple kills before he’d come to himself. The boys, terrified. Knowing. They’d known who he was, the fuckin’ Tiger of Ares Street in the flesh, come to eat them alive.

Tora’d spent the first night in a corner near the entrance, waiting, head falling back against the wall every so often as the bodies stiffened then bloated on the far side of the room, night mercifully concealing the evidence of his massacre. But the smell. The darkness couldn’t cover the smell of blood, decay. Death hanging in the air, from the rafters. The second night had been worse—the stench overpowering, coating his tongue. The old man had said they’d hung out there, and the kids had said there’d be more men coming Thursday, more on Friday. _Men_ , they’d said. Fuck, they hadn’t been fuckin’ men though, had they? Boys. Teenagers—the inside of the building covered in graffiti, their tags, staking out the neutral territory. Child’s play. Fuck, had probably been expected to join the clan from a young age. And the woman, the old man—neither of them had protected the boys. Had probably been grooming them for years.

Tora brought the lighter to the cigarette in his mouth, couldn’t hold it steady between his lips as another sob tore from his gut. He leaned forward in the seat, resting his forehead against the top of the steering wheel to steady himself as he tried again, hands shaking, fingers numb, each inhale like a knife to the lungs until he finally managed to light the end. He took a drag, holding the smoke in his lungs, the nicotine crashing over his head in a rush that immediately helped the shaking. _Four and a half minutes_ , he told himself. _Four and half minutes._ Then he’d get back on the road, finish the drive to Vincent. Report back. Job was done. Wondered if Quincey’d let him back out of attending the party, but fuck, Tora shook his head, inhaling. He needed to see her. Like his lungs were caving in at the thought of not seeing her. But no, he thought a moment later, turning to look out the passenger window where the sun bled across the sky. He needed to end it with her, whatever this shit was they were doin’, he thought, looking over at the dinosaur. So much blood, no way of knowing if it was his or not. He was definitely bleeding, one of the kids had pulled a knife, swiping wildly with it, no control. The fruitless attack ending with the blade lodged in the kid’s throat, but he’d managed to get in a couple swipes at Tora. His eyes refocused on the pot, coming back to himself. There was no way this could work. She was too precious for this shit, too important. Was bound to get hurt if he stayed in her life. He took another drag of the cigarette, could feel the tears welling along his bottom lids. This would be the last night. Wouldn’t ruin her party—couldn’t do that to her. But after, he’d make himself slip away from her. For her. He’d force himself to leave her.

Tora felt his heartrate slow, could breathe again. A sense of disembodied calm trickling down his neck as he visualized his spine, crawling back between the vertebrae. He reached over, closing the door firmly and peeling back out onto the road, lighting up another cigarette a moment later as his fingers began to tingle again. Fuck if he was losing control again—and if he needed the fuckin’ nicotine to maintain it, then he’d smoke the whole goddamn pack. He wasn’t good enough for her anyway, no use keepin’ up with this quittin’ shit.

The evening sun peeked through the trees less and less as Tora made his way deeper into the woods, drawing closer and closer to the mansion. It wasn’t long before he was pulling up out front, the car winding around the fountain. He spared a glance up at the mansion before striding across the drive, feeling the squelch of blood between his toes with each step as he approached the door, pushing his way inside the entryway. A couple clan members stood off to the side, their eyes widening, mouths falling open as Tora moved past them toward the conference room. He shouldered his way through the door, could feel the wet fabric of his jacket catch on the wood before he stopped at the head of the table, meeting Vincent’s eyes at the other end. The man broke out in a slow smile at the sight of Tora.

“It’s done.”

Tora waited, wanted nothing more than to turn and run back to his car, peel the fuck out of there. But he waited, hands limp by his sides, Joe’s ring cold on his finger, as Vincent evaluated him. “Good to hear, my son.”

Tora swallowed. _Son_. Thought of the toddler from the woman’s phone screen yesterday morning. The bodies of the teenaged boys, littered about the meatpacking plant as the blood from the different nights ran together, forming a smattering of lakes, some thicker than others. Their signatures hung about the walls in bright spraypaint, same as the way he and his friends used to tag places like Regina’s Peak and Fred’s grill shed. The Ares Street Kingz. Kids.

“I assume you’re off to Quinceton’s?” Vincent cocked an eyebrow.

Tora nodded. “Car needs a scrub-down,” he said gesturing back toward the door of the conference room, the entryway beyond where he’d just come from. From the little he’d noticed, he’d need a full detail—had gotten blood everywhere, from a few stray swipes where the top of his head had hit the roof to the grooves in the pedals. Couldn’t drive the fuckin’ thing like that.

Vincent nodded once. “Call the cleaner and leave the car with Quinceton. It’ll be taken care of,” he said. “You remember your task?” he asked coldly, eyes roaming up and down Tora, taking in the extent of the blood.

_You hunt him down_. Tora nodded once.

“Good,” Vincent waved with a flick of his fingers toward the door, dismissing him wordlessly.

Tora turned, striding back out the door, ignoring the gazes of the clan members he passed. He just had to get to Quincey’s. He could fuckin’ make it. Just had to get to Quincey’s. Then he could shower, would feel better. Could scrub it all away, at least on the outside. And that’s what fuckin’ mattered right now, cause he was seein’ Bobby. Just needed her to believe he was okay for one more night.

*

Tora pulled into the private underground lot of Quincey’s penthouse, parking across three spaces at the back and quickly leaning over to unbuckle Bull, scooping him up into his arms and cradling him in the crook of his elbow before he grabbed the cigarettes from the console and moved to open the trunk, grabbing his go-bag—would need to transfer it to whatever car Quince let him use—and striding to the elevator that would bring him straight to the penthouse. His head felt foggy, couldn’t fuckin’ think straight, needed to get out of his clothes, so wet, heavy. The scent of blood like a rag down his throat. He stopped, looking at the ground—had been tracking red shoeprints from the car. He leaned down, toeing them off and picking them up in his free hand, accidentally fumbling his phone in the process, watching as though in slow motion as it fell from his fingertips and landed on the concrete, the screen immediately shattering.

Tora stared at it for a moment, thinking back to the way he’d been able to save it from falling in the warehouse from the fuckin’ rafters. What a fuckin’ idiot. He laughed, bent double in the parking lot eyebrows drawn together as he caught his breath. No joy in it at all. Fuck, he was losin’ control of his fuckin’ body. Probably looked fuckin’ insane—covered in blood, walking across the parking lot in socks holding his shoes and a tiny plant, laughing uncontrollably at his cracked fuckin’ phone. Shit, it was worse than Bobby’s. _Bobby_. Tora sobered at the thought of her. He was gonna see her in less than an hour, no time at all. Where had the last fifty-three hours gone? Could feel himself smiling on the inside at the thought of her, the kid reaching out from his spine, but his face was frozen, expressionless. Couldn’t move any of the muscles as he picked up his phone, leaving smudged sockprints as he walked to the elevator. The doors opened immediately and he stepped inside, pressing the penthouse button, a streak of blood left behind on the metal. Tora turned his gaze to his reflection in the doors, quickly shutting his eyes against his image. Fuck, he was more covered than he thought he’d ever been—face was red, stained with his own? The kids? Was the woman’s still sprayed underneath it all? Felt like so long ago. The doors opened and he stepped out, opening the door to the penthouse, only vaguely registering that Quincey’d left it unlocked, which meant he must have company.

Tora dropped his shoes, a moment later letting the go-bag slide from his shoulder as he stared at his reflection in the large floor to ceiling mirror in the entryway opposite the door, unable to avoid his own image any longer. His mouth fell open at the sight of himself—blood caked in every crack of his skin, every pore. The places where he’d sweat running like tears from his hairline down his neck, hat disheveled, the hair visible from under his hat matted with dried blood. The pot of the plant, once white, stained a burnt, rusty red, his palm prints all over the dinosaur. Tora frowned at the sight, crouching to nestle the plant on his bag before ripping off his jacket and tossing it onto the shoes. He realized as though from a fog that there’d been voices when he walked in, that they’d stopped, and then Quincey was there, watching him from a few feet away. Tora glanced up, catching Claude and Scharch in the background, both men unable to conceal their terrified expressions. He could’ve laughed, really. If only his face could move.

He met Quincey’s eyes, immediately looked away. What was that, pity? Or just some kind of bottomless grief? Tora clenched his jaw, unbuttoning his jeans, and shucking them down his legs as Quincey spoke, “how bad’s the mess?” Fuck, even the hair on his legs was caked, matted into tight little swirls. And shit, _that_ was why—a gash on his thigh. He’d need to clean it, make sure it wasn’t too deep. Couldn’t feel it yet from all the adrenaline. Or maybe it was the fact that he was still tucked up inside his spine. Like from the other side of a wall, he could sense that he hadn’t yet come back into himself fully.

Tora glanced up at Quincey, who was frowning at the gash, “need the cleaners. No civilians. Car needs a full detail, garage and elevator.” Quincey nodded as Tora removed his socks, throwing them onto the pile with the rest of his clothes. He glanced up into the living room at Claude and Scharch as he peeled the saturated briefs from his legs. Didn’t fuckin’ care that they could see him. Let ‘em look, who the fuck cared. Both of them looked away quickly as Tora peered down to examine himself. Even his cock was bloody, fuck, the shower was gonna be fuckin’ painful—could already feel the old pain in his back twinge at the thought of the scalding water. He knelt down, grabbing up his bag, the plant which he handed gently to Quincey.. “Give him some water. Just a little, not sure how much,” he mumbled, voice cracking around the question. Fuck, _he_ was thirsty. Or maybe it was the thought of Bobby seeing him like this. She could never accept him like this, he knew that. Knew it deep in his bones. Tora padded into the kitchen, still carrying Bull, hadn’t been able to give him to Quincey, couldn’t part with the little guy just yet. Hadn’t realized how much comfort the little plant was giving him, his companion through the horror of the last few days. A little piece of Bobby under his wing, like if he held onto him a little while longer, everything would be okay. Everything would be okay.

Tora downed a glass of water, then another, finally setting the cup down beside the bloody pack of cigarettes, his fingerprints spelling his guilt all over the white cardboard, the plant. “Keep an eye on him,” he said as he poured a little water down the spikey leaves. Quincey looked on with wide eyes before nodding his head. “Gonna shower.” He padded around the island, meeting Claude’s eyes as he passed by the man naked, headed to the guest bathroom.

The shower was about as fuckin’ painful as he’d guessed it’d be. Tora stood under the water, letting his skin redden, loosen under the hot temperature until the water ran only vaguely pink before he finally turned to grab one of Quincey’s fancy soaps from the shower rack. He made quick work of lathering himself down, knowing he’d need to repeat the process several times so as to make sure he’d gotten every fuckin’ spot. Couldn’t risk Bobby finding any on him. Not on their last night together.

Inspecting the gash on his leg revealed that it wasn’t as deep as he’d originally thought—might not even need to sew it up, could probably use some of that liquid bandage shit. Hurt like a bitch, but if that’s what it took, then that’s what it fuckin’ took. He felt his head clearing as the water continued to run down his hair, scrubbing his scalp firmly into a lather. It wasn’t the first time he’d carried out Vincent’s orders—it shouldn’t be affecting him the way that it was. Why the fuck was he lettin’ it get to his head so much? _Bobby_. He’d been fuckin’ distracted. Was shaken at how quickly he’d lost control of the situation from his lack of focus. The bloodshed, so much of it needless. Could’ve been avoided. He sighed as he turned the water off, gingerly patting his raw skin dry with the soft material, grateful for once at Quincey’s luxury taste—even the fuckin’ bath towels were soft as shit. As the adrenaline moved through his system and the cool air of the bathroom steamed against his skin, he began to feel his pulse along the gash—was still fuckin’ bleeding despite being shallow, and every step he took felt like the knife was making contact for the first time. He walked to the floor-length mirror, using his palm to wipe the condensation from the glass, inspecting his reflection, lifting his hair back from his ears so he could check the folds in his skin where she might be able to see any blood he’d missed and, after several minutes, finally tugged the strawberry tie from around his wrist to pull his mop into a bun. The band had been caked with blood, but in the heat of the shower, he’d managed to get it all off. Luckily the thing was fuckin’ red anyhow.

He sighed, pulling the towel around his waist and stepping from the bathroom, skin immediately pebbling at the cool air of the penthouse, the steam billowing out around him into the hall as he made his way down to the guest room where he kept some spare clothes—hadn’t planned on wearin’ a fuckin’ suit, but he knew that was all he had here besides the street clothes in his go-bag. Fuck. He huffed another sigh as his eyes fell to the bed where Quincey had laid out an outfit for him—had even folded his fuckin’ briefs. Tora rolled his eyes—why’d the man always have to take shit one step too goddamned far? Didn’t want him touchin’ his fuckin’ undies, that was for him and Bobby. Tora paused as he pulled them on, his spine unlocking. Fuck. _Bobby_. He swallowed harshly, clenching his jaw against the burn in his chest, sure as shit didn’t want to cut himself from her life, but after today—he glanced down at his calloused palms, _I like how they feel when you touch me_. Would she feel the same way if she knew what his hands were capable of? What he’d just used them for? His fingers tight around the grip of his gun. His palm pressed flat against the side of the old man’s head, his arm, a noose around his neck. His hands covered in the blood of teenagers. Tora took a deep breath, closing his eyes tight on a sharp exhale through his nose. He knew the answer, didn’t ever want to hear her say it, see her retreat from him. Had lived through some serious shit, but he didn’t think he could survive seein’ the look in her eyes as she pushed him away when she finally realized what he was. The sick fuckin’ monster that he was.

As he tugged on the slim-cut slacks laid out beside the jacket and dress shirt, he heard a soft rap on the door. Turning, he met Quincey’s eyes from the gap before inclining his head toward the man, inviting him in.

“Here,” Quincey tossed a box at him as he finished pulling his arms through the sleeves of the shirt. Tora quickly reached out, catching it and turning it over in his hands as he read the blue bubble letters across the front: _Nicorette_. He glanced up at Quincey who had moved to sit on the corner of the bed, his legs extended out and crossed in front of him, arms propping him up on the mattress as he leaned back, tilting his head.

“The fuck is this,” Tora asked.

“It’s to help you quit. Keeps some nicotine in your system.” He nodded at the package, widening his eyes as if to say, _go on, open it_. Tora didn’t move to unwrap the cellophane—didn’t fuckin’ need this shit. Wasn’t quittin’ anymore. “It’ll make it easier—just follow the instructions, apparently it’s not like normal gum, so you’ll want to read carefully,” he said, frowning when Tora didn’t move to open the box. “Tora?”

“All set, Quince. Got smokes,” he said, thinking of the bloodstained pack he’d set beside Bull on the kitchen counter.

“Oh, no you don’t. Not anymore, at least,” Quincey said lightly as Tora rounded on him.

“The fuck ya mean, _not anymore_?” Tora could feel his lungs clenching, anger burning in his gut as he glared at the little shit on the bed. So fuckin’ casual. He’d fuckin’ seen him walk through the door like the killer that he was—the fuck made him think it was a good idea to toss his vice on this goddamned night of all fuckin’ nights? “Quince,” he growled.

“You’re picking her up,” Quincey said, meeting Tora’s glare with an even stare, jaw set firm. Not fuckin’ budgin’. “Real soon, too. So you should finish getting dressed.”

Tora threw his head back. “Can’t fuckin’ quit,” he bit out. “Not gonna keep tryin’.” 

Quincey frowned, “I thought you were quitting for her.”

Tora clenched his jaw, tossing the gum onto the bed and buttoning his shirt most of the way. “Callin’ it off,” he muttered finally, the words like razors he pulled from his throat. Quincey sat forward, pulling his feet in as he watched Tora tuck in the shirt. The man was gettin’ on his fuckin’ nerves—“what?” he snapped, glaring at Quincey, shirt half tucked. “The fuck are ya starin’ at.”

“But you love her,” Quincey breathed, his brows pulled to the center of his face, the scar across his eye wrinkling with the movement.

Well, that wasn’t a fuckin’ question—course he loved her. Was the whole goddamned reason he was walkin’ away. Fuck. Tora swallowed, nodding once as he continued tucking in the back of the shirt, elbows folding out around him like wings. “She’s gonna get hurt one way or another,” Tora said finally. “Least this way, she’ll live.” He zipped up his pants before reaching up to adjust the collar of the shirt, shoulders pulling at the material as it stretched tight around his raised arms.

Quincey shook his head, frowning deeper. “Bullshit.” Tora’s head flew up, eyes narrowing as he met Quincey’s. He opened his mouth to rip him a new one when Quincey cut him off. “She’s my editor and you’re my bodyguard. Not like either of those things are changing.” he said.

Tora rounded on him, abandoning the collar. Fuck the collar. “Then get a new fuckin’ editor, ya stupid fuck,” he growled, reaching a hand toward Quincey, who quickly leapt from the bed and moved around the other side of the mattress. “What the fuck don’t ya understand about how dangerous—”

“Well, I, for one, quite _like_ the arrangement,” he interrupted, grabbing one of the many pillows stacked along the headboard and holding it out in front of him as Tora approached, “so spare me the egoistic savior bullshit. Distancing yourself from her isn’t going to change the fact that she now has contacts in the clan whether you like it or not. It’s just going to break her heart.” Tora paused, remembering Ronzo’s parting words to him. _She’d be devastated_. What the fuck did they know anyway. “You’re being a coward.” At his brother’s words, Tora’s eyes flashed, and he advanced quickly around the corner of the bed. How fuckin’ dare this motherfucker.

“The fuck do ya know—” 

Quincey raised the pillow in front of his face, backing up into the wall, and Tora tripped at the words that tumbled from his brother’s mouth, “she’s the strawberry girl! From Moonbright! She’s the strawberry girl!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Loooove reading your thoughts/predictions on what’s going down haha
> 
> Music: “Lead Me Home” by Jamie N Commons / “Gnat” and “Killer” by Eminem
> 
> Also PS if you have song suggestions, would love to hear them—I write to music to get me in the right headspace 
> 
> Ch. 28: Will Tora believe Quincey?


	28. Chance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Quincey plays his cards, and Tora must make a decision. The gang celebrates a new partnership.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y’all have been so *incredibly patient* with me as I drop cliffhangers on our way toward the end of the strawberry girl arc, so here is a looong update 😘 hang on tight!
> 
> As always, characters belong to the real MVP Lilydusk, brilliant creator of Midnight Poppy Land. Support her on Patreon! https://www.patreon.com/lilydusk

**Chapter 28**

Quincey raised the pillow in front of his face, backing up into the wall, and Tora tripped at the words that tumbled from his brother’s mouth, “she’s the strawberry girl! From Moonbright! She’s the strawberry girl!” 

Tora took a breath. Another. His hand stretched into the space between where he’d stopped short and where Quincey stood pressed against the wall, the pillow shaking slightly. He shook his head slowly at the confirmation, the notion that what he’d suspected, what he hadn’t dared let himself hope, was true. Couldn’t be true. Distantly, he could feel that his face had gone slack, the anger falling back down his throat, bottoming out, a pathetic puddle at his feet. Could feel the emotions he’d locked away in his spine breaking free. Slowly breaking free. But it couldn’t be fuckin’ true, he thought, the thread of hope so fuckin’ fragile, so thin.

Quincey lowered the pillow slightly, peering up over the plush material to take in Tora’s expression. When Tora didn’t move, couldn’t speak, Quincey brought the pillow down to his chest, still wary, though seemingly a little less so. “We tracked her down—me and Gyu. Well,” he tilted his head to the side, glancing up at the ceiling before looking back at Tora and rolling his eyes lightly, “Gyu did the heavy-lifting.” He took a breath, taking in Tora’s expression before continuing carefully, as though he knew very well how any word or sudden movement could set the man off, “but we found her name.”

Tora felt his lips part on a soft exhale. They’d found her _name_? The fuck did that mean? “Quince—”

“Family name Wilkes,” Quincey said, pressing his lips together as Tora inhaled sharply. “Poppy’s from Moonbright, right?” He angled his head down, still tensed—ready to dodge the blow Tora had been so ready to deliver just moments ago—as he peered up at his brother. “She said so the other day, talking about some special cakes, a bakery there. Poppylan Wilkes?”

Tora’s eyes bored into his brother’s as he processed what he’d just said. So…what? The strawberry girl’s name was Wilkes. And Poppy’s name was Wilkes. Both from Moonbright, but shit, it could all be some cruel fuckin’ joke, right? _Right_? Again, he found himself wondering what the chances were that she could be the strawberry girl. _His_ Bobby. The girl from Moonbright. _A good egg._ He swallowed, f _uck_. Shook his head—needed to stop thinkin’ of her that way. As his. Needed to stop entertaining her belief that he was good, that he could be good. Tora glanced down at his hand, still raised slightly, still ready to beat his own fuckin’ brother. The blood was gone, but he could still feel it. Like it was baked into the lines of his knuckles, some invisible second skin forever inked into his own. The weight of Joe’s ring like lead around his finger. So fuckin’ heavy.

“No,” Quincey shook his head, reaching a hand out to his brother, hesitant at first, but then quickly closing the distance between them when Tora didn’t react, eyes still on his hand, Quincey’s fingers a sudden vice around his forearm. “I see what you’re doing,” he pointed at Tora with his other hand, dropping the pillow back onto the bed, “and it’s not happening on my watch. Nope!” He slapped his other hand down on Tora’s shoulder, taking a step closer to him. “I swear, Tora, if you self-sabotage—”

“ _Tch,_ fuck off, Quince,” Tora raised his arms, easily breaking from Quincey’s hold and turning to walk back around the bed, fingers once again adjusting his collar as he strode from the room. He could hear Quincey scrambling after him, the crinkling of the cellophane as he grabbed the box of gum off the bed. Tora glanced around the kitchen before turning toward the couch—no cigarettes, fuck, maybe he could fish them out of the trash? Wouldn’t have time to buy another pack before he picked up Poppy. A moment later, his jacket had hit him over the head, and he quickly clutched at it, whipping around to face Quincey, the little fuckin’ shit. “Goddammit, Quince,” he growled, “fuckin’ drop it. Ya wrong, and besides,” he lowered his voice dangerously, “ya fuckin’ coerced that shit out of me with ya fuckin’ birthday shot and then ya went and ran ya damn mouth to fuckin’ Ronzo.” He glared at Quincey as he shook the jacket out, pulling his right arm through the sleeve. “Ya’ve done enough, the two of ya.”

Quincey clenched his jaw, “Tora, you deserve to be hap—”

A guttural sound ripped up his throat, a roar across the small space between them as Quincey staggered back once. “I DON’T DESERVE _SHIT_ , QUINCE, AND YA FUCKIN’ KNOW IT,” he yelled. “I’m a fuckin’ monster, couldn’t even tell ya how many k—” _kids._ Their blood crusting into the cracks of his hands. He broke off, a choking sound in his throat, couldn’t keep it in. Had to keep it in. _Keep it the fuck together_.

Quincey frowned, his face crumpling in anguish as he watched Tora collapse onto the couch behind him, head in his hands as he pressed the heels of his palms to his eyes. Tora breathed hard, in through his nose, out through his mouth, could feel the strawberry knock against the knuckles of his fingers as his bun flopped forward, heavy with water from the shower. He focused on the feel of the plastic on his skin, the rounded edges. _Bobby, her smile, yeah, her smile_. Warm eyes. What he wouldn’t give to catch her scent right now—could only smell Quincey’s fancy fuckin’ soap. After a moment, he heard his brother walk around the couch, the cellophane crinkling in his hands as he turned the box over before setting it on the floor between his feet as he sat down beside Tora, their knees touching. As pissed off as he was with his brother, the contact helped ground him. His bare feet, which had felt like they were sinking through the carpet, rose back to him, pressing firmly against the floor. Tethered solid to this moment, could focus on his breathing, his heartrate falling back to an even pulse.

“I don’t know why, and I don’t know how,” Quincey spoke softly beside him, “but I’ve got this feeling, Tora. Call it an _instinct_ , if that makes it more believable for you.” He nudged his knee, tilting his head lower to try to peer around his brother’s raised hand as Tora watched from the corner of his eye. “In my _gut_. I know you don’t believe in the stars and stuff…” Quincey trailed off and Tora closed his eyes to the memory—lying on top of the roof of his car with her, the stars above the abandoned overhangs as clouds slipped by them, the warmth of Bobby pressed up against him. Thought of standing outside Chevy’s with her, Bobby nodding toward the sky, the satellite, _you’re missing your chance_. Had she been right? Fuck, he could feel it slipping away from him, her light slipping through his fingers from where he’d grasped her, held her, for a moment. His shooting star. One bright spot in his miserable life— _two bright spots?_

Tora rolled his forehead on his palms, peering over at Quincey as his brother dug his phone from his pocket, opening up the star shit app. “ _You come from somewhere broken, yet you stand_ ,” he read. “And before you shoot it down,” he said quickly, tapping his foot against Tora’s, “it’s not mine—I made one for you. A little less accurate than mine since I don’t know what time and where exactly you were born…” he trailed off. Tora blinked, didn’t understand what the fuck he was talkin’ about. What’d his life have to do with the stars? He was fuckin’ insignificant. Quincey turned more fully to face him, “just because you were dealt a terrible hand in life doesn’t mean you have to condemn yourself to a life of misery. You don’t have to be alone.” Tora clenched his jaw at the burn near the base of his throat. “You’ve found someone who might just be your person.” Tora closed his eyes against an eyeroll—had heard all about Quincey’s belief in fuckin’ soulmates, called them that— _your person_. “It may be a coincidence that you two met when you were kids. But I don’t think it’s a coincidence you met again as adults,” he gasped softly to himself and Tora could sense an epiphany coming on as he murmured, “star-crossed,” reaching for the pen and paper he kept on the coffee table _for_ _inspo_ before catching himself, turning back to Tora and scooping up the gum. He held out the box to Tora with one hand, meeting his brother’s eyes, “I know it’s still early, and maybe she’s not, you know, _the one_. But she clearly you happy and vice versa for sure. So, don’t miss your chance.”

Tora felt his nostrils flare, his brow furrow as he considered the box for a long moment, Bobby’s face, her smile, her wide eyes at the front of his mind. The feel of her lips soft on his, the smell of her hair, the feel of her hands on his head. The way she made him feel—fuckin’ human. Just another guy. _Her_ guy. Hers. As Quincey extended the box to him, Tora didn’t know if he had the strength to turn it down. And he had to admit—he was dying to know if she really was who Quincey claimed she was. Did she remember him? Slowly, he reached out and took the gum from Quincey’s hand, fingers deftly peeling away the cellophane wrapping as he read over the instructions—the fuck was _chew and park?_ He pulled a piece from the plastic bubbled packaging, popping one of the white squares from the foil as Quincey looked on. He glanced over at him, “the fuck ya lookin’ at,” he said gruffly, folding the gum against the side of his mouth and following the instructions—chewing until his mouth tingled, the taste of mint and nicotine peppery on his tongue before tucking the piece against the side of his mouth again. Felt fuckin’ weird, but after a minute he could feel a similar calm that his cigarettes usually brought. He looked back over at Quincey, “tastes like shit,” he said as Quincey huffed. He rolled the wad over his tongue to the other side of his mouth, holding it against his gums as the nicotine ran through his system. “Thanks.”

Quincey nodded, then gestured toward the kitchen, “I cleaned your plant. You might want to bleach it, though.” Tora stood, straightening and fastening the top button on his suit jacket with the fingers on his right hand as he walked to the kitchen to inspect Bull. “You never told me where you got it.”

“Was a gift,” Tora said, running his fingers over the plant, his leg twinging as he realized he hadn’t put any liquid bandage on, could feel the gash against the fabric of his slacks. He turned to ask Quincey for the first aid kit, pulling his hand away from Bull quickly as he noticed his brother looking on, his head tilted, a small smile on his face at Tora’s gentle touch. Tora frowned, jaw clenching. Before he could say anything, though, Quincey got up, walking toward the door as he inclined his head toward the key rack.

“I’m getting Claude and Scharch to drive me—take the weekend off. I’ve told Dad that you’ll be working for me, so you don’t have to worry about him either.” Tora frowned at the gleam in his eye, opening his mouth to interject as Quincey pulled on his shoes—were those fuckers gonna be at the party? Didn’t want them anywhere near Bobby—but Quincey held up a hand as he drew his phone from his pocket again, typing something. “I told my sweet editor that a car would be picking her up, don’t leave her hanging, okay?” He whirled away from Tora, grabbing a set of keys from beside the door, pointing to the others, “take the Lexus for as long as you need. I’ll text you the address. See you soon, honey,” he called over his shoulder, blowing a kiss as Tora rolled his eyes on a huff—how many damn times did he have to tell him not to call him that. A moment later, he was gone.

Tora looked down at Bull again, reaching out to stroke the leaves. Shit, he should really find the first aid kit, but if Poppy was waiting for him…Tora felt a warmth bloom in his chest at the thought of her, of seeing her, of having her in his arms again. Shit, there was no way he could resist—would he have the resolve to walk away? Could he still fuckin’ do that? He scooped up the plant, checking it over carefully for any signs of blood before he tucked him beside the box of gum, walking to the front door and sighing softly as he grabbed the keys to the Lexus. He’d been so fuckin’ dead set on leaving when he’d first gotten to the penthouse. Confronted by his blood-soaked reflection in the mirror had made it real fuckin’ easy to draw the line—he was no good for her. Dangerous. How easy it’d be for her to end up in trouble, unaware of the shadows behind her. A hard silencer against her soft braid. _Fuck_ , but now—Tora glanced to his right, found his own eyes in the reflection. Save for the haunted look, the dark circles under his eyes, he looked like he usually did. The man she believed to be a bodyguard. Caught up in the mafia. _Just like a driver or something?_

Tora bent down, carefully shifting the blood-soaked clothes—some parts still damp—until he’d pulled his gun from the sodden fabric. He’d need to clean it later, but that could wait, he thought, opening up the go-bag and sifting through it until he found a pair of undies that he used to wipe his hands. He unloaded the weapon and wrapped it in the material, tucking it inside the mesh pocket before digging back into the main compartment for a pair of socks—noting that Quincey’d left his dress shoes beside the door for him so he wouldn’t have to wear his gym shoes. He quickly pulled them on and grabbed his secondary handgun from the mesh pocket, loading it and tucking the object into the waistband of his pants, chilly through the thin fabric of his dress shirt, before zipping the bag shut again. When he stood, picking the bag up, he noticed that there was some blood on the strap, but it’d dried—a rusty stain now. Crusted. He could probably flake it off in the garage if he wanted. He twisted it around his hand, locking the door behind him as he made his way underground, carefully avoiding the bloody smudges he’d left, stepping lithely around them.

Luckily, the Lexus was parked on the other side of the garage, so he wasn’t forced to walk back down the path he’d tracked, little bits of glass shimmering from the spot where he’d dropped his phone, the footprints that got bloodier the further away from the elevator they trailed. A faint wind whistled through the garage as he threw the bag in the trunk, striding back around the car and easing himself down into the seat, carefully moving his leg. Shit, without the adrenaline, he could really fuckin’ feel the gash. The pants were dark enough to hide any blood that might seep through—a small mercy. Hopefully she wouldn’t notice. Tora rolled the gum back between his teeth, chewing until his tongue was tingling with the nicotine, reaching toward the glove box where he was sure Quincey would have a stash of napkins from the coffee shop—sure enough, the paper spilled from the compartment as soon as Tora’d released the latch. He quickly grabbed one, stuffing the rest back inside on a huff and leaning back into his seat to spit out the gum. Even if it was their last night together, he was sure as shit gonna kiss Bobby—wasn’t sure she’d be a fan of the tingling sensation.

As Tora flicked the lights on, he felt his phone buzz, gingerly lifting his hips up to fish it out. Could barely fuckin’ read the screen—looked like a message from Quincey? Probably the address for the party. Shit, he’d really need to connect with Ronzo, get a new phone. Maybe he could get a new one for Bobby, too, _pfft_. He couldn’t help but laugh to himself at the idiocy of it all—was pretty sure this was the first time he’d so royally fucked up a phone and he hadn’t even done it on purpose, whereas Bobby, normally so careful, had chucked hers across her apartment. _Fuckin’ feisty_. He smiled to himself, glancing at his car as he slowed next to it. Was there anything inside he’d need before the cleaners came?

He imagined the interior—the duffel in his tire well, the ointment and lighters in the center console, the bag Fred’d given him in the backseat. Shit, he still needed to bring it to Alice. He sighed, glancing at Bull buckled beside him—yeah, should probably grab it. Could bring it by tomorrow or somethin’. Might be nice to see the old bat after such a stressful fuckin’ week, could focus on her naggin’ instead of the memory of the warehouse, the meatpacking plant, the old man’s house, the smell of piss and blood. Alice’d always had a way of helping him come back, same as Joe. Maybe he could bring Bobby—Tora stopped himself from finishing that thought as he quickly opened the back door to his car, eyes trying desperately to avoid the sight of the blood in the front seat, swiped across the roof. He grabbed the bag, slamming the door and carefully getting back into the Lexus, tossing the paper bag in the back seat after checking it for blood. Nah, he’d go alone. Wouldn’t let himself entertain the idea of another date with her, not after the end of this night. And yet, as Tora peeled out of the underground lot—his right hand shooting out reflexively to cup the side of Bull to the seat as he took the sharp turn toward her office—he couldn’t help the hope, the excitement building at the back of his throat. Fuck, he just wanted to see her, hold her tight.

Tora sped down the last block toward her building, pulling up haphazardly outside, feeling the bump as his tire hit the curb, rolling up onto the sidewalk. He didn’t fuckin’ care, looked down to check the plant, and when he glanced back up his lungs almost gave out. Bobby, reflected in the rearview mirror, the fuckin’ glowing numbers in the corner obscuring part of her body as she exited her building. Tora felt his left arm shoot out toward the door, his fingers around the handle, eyes glued to her image in the mirror, mouth dry. His arm shook as he shoved open the door, planting first one foot, then the other gingerly on the pavement, the key in the ignition, door wide open, didn’t fuckin’ care. A sob threatened to tear up his throat and he swallowed it back down thickly as he met her eyes. Fuckin’ gorgeous, but more than that, she was everything in that moment, in every moment. A goddamn angel. He was stepping forward, legs heavy like he was wading through water—was this the last time?—her face lit like the sun as she watched him approach, beaming. Fuckin’ _beaming_ at him. Didn’t fuckin’ deserve her at all, he knew. Knew it deep in his bones, but he couldn’t bring himself to give a single shit as he hopped the curb, closing the distance between them in just a few strides. Knew he shouldn’t kiss her here, not with Claude and Scharch in the area, but he couldn’t stop himself. Fuck ‘em. Needed to hold her, touch her, fuck. Nothing more, needed nothing more.

He wrapped his arm around her, palm pressing against the rough fabric of her coat at the small of her back, the gentle dip of her spine, as his other hand skimmed up her neck, fingers curling around the back of her head, thumb along her jaw as he angled her head up toward him, bending to press his lips to hers, hard. He felt her melt against him immediately, her lips soft, warm as he drew his tongue across her lips, a silent plea that she answered at once, her mouth parting, tongue finding his. She tasted sweet, couldn’t get enough of her, was he being too rough? Her hunger seemed to match his own, though, her fingers clutching the material at the back of his jacket. Tora worried for a moment that she’d feel the gun before remembering that she knew. Fuck, _she knew_ about the clan, knew he carried, and she was kissing him. Again. Kept coming back to him, letting him in. He ran his hand up and down her back, pulling her close to him as she tightened her hold, his thumb on her cheek, her jaw. So soft, the tiny movements of her mouth as she opened against him. _I love ya, Bobby_. Could never tell her, could never speak the words now. Fuck.

He heard a noise from behind Poppy, sounded like someone chokin’ on their own goddamn spit—disgustin’. Tora pulled away from her, eyes roaming her face before kissing her lightly on the cheek. At some point while they’d been joined at the lips, their torsos pressed together, his spine had loosed, could feel the warmth returning to his fingers, his limbs. He met her gaze, letting himself dip into her warm brown stare, the light dusting of freckles across her nose illuminated against the faint flush of her face. His cute fuckin’ hamster. Tora smiled softly at her before he caught movement from behind her. He flicked his eyes away from her face, looking at the man he hadn’t even noticed before—fuckin’ Jacob. He glared at him, feeling his jaw tense, nostrils flaring as the man opened his mouth. “I can just,” a shallow breath, “sit in the back.”

Tora didn’t move, his eyes still trained on Jacob as he tried to make sense of what he was saying. Fuck, Bobby smelled so good, couldn’t think straight, so warm in his arms. He felt her fists loosen from his jacket, one of her arms pressing up between them as she drew her fingers along his jaw, the hard place where his teeth gnashed together. She tapped her fingertips lightly along the spot until he unlocked his mouth for her, taking a deep breath and trying to pull some of his anger back into his chest. Fuck, he’d just wanted a goddamned minute with her. A minute to forget everything else. Their last night? The last first time seein’ her. Shit.

“Jacob’s going to catch a ride with us,” she murmured to him, a smile in her eyes at the look on his face as he stared at her, registering what that meant. He bit back a groan and she laughed softly against him, clearly feeling the low vibrations in his chest as he tried to repress his reaction.

Tora huffed a sigh, glancing back up at Jacob who hadn’t moved at all. Man looked like he wanted to sink into the ground. “S’unlocked,” Tora grunted, nodding his head toward the car, waiting until her coworker had scurried past them to lean back down, kissing her once again as she hummed against his mouth, her hands stroking his sides, fingers hitting his waistband before drawing back up over his lats where she rubbed her thumbs. He sighed against her, breaking away from her lips and drawing both of his arms tight around her in a bear hug. “Goddamn, I missed ya, Bob,” he muttered into her hair, she smelled so fuckin’ good.

“Mmm,” he felt her humming against him, “really? Couldn’t tell.” _Pfft, pfft_ , he laughed against her hair, hugging her tighter as he swallowed against the sting in his eyes. Fuck—if he didn’t stop thinkin’ about this bein’ the end, he wasn’t gonna make it the rest of the night, and there was no fuckin’ way he was cuttin’ any of this short. He felt her pull away gently, leaning her chin on his chest as she looked up at him. “Missed you, too,” she said finally. He swallowed, moved a hand to tuck a lock of her hair behind her ear—she’d worn it down, loose waves framing her face. Fuckin’ beautiful. She smiled, finally pulling her arms from around him, “we should probably get going,” she said. “Don’t want to torture Jacob any more than he already is,” she giggled behind her palm and Tora couldn’t help but smile at her as she took his hand, leading him back toward the car. _This moment_ , he told himself. He was just gonna try to live in this fuckin’ moment, wouldn’t think about the end of the night until they were there. “His girlfriend’s a reporter, guess she got tied up,” she explained as Tora nodded, Poppy swinging their hands lightly between them. He was trying to focus on her words, he really was, but he’d just noticed what she was wearing—her legs were bare, her feet in a pair of tiny black strappy heels. He dragged his gaze up her thighs slowly from the corner of his eye, lingering on the strip of red fabric poking out from beneath her high-necked jacket, buttoned all the way up to her chin. Wondered what she was wearing underneath. Her teasing brought him back to what she was saying as she glanced up at him, deadpanning, “So, why the fancy ride? You get towed again?”

He rolled his eyes, pushing down the sick feeling as his stomach churned. If she knew…

“Ya think ya so funny, huh,” he smirked at her as he opened the passenger side door, quickly ducking down and unbuckling Bull, placing the plant on the floor before pushing himself back out of the car, biting back a groan at the twinge in his leg. Shit, maybe it was worse than he’d thought? When he turned, she was smiling at the plant, a strange look on her face as she turned to look at him.

“Or maybe it was your parking,” she teased again. “The city boot your wheel?” 

_Tch_ , he clicked his teeth, nodding toward the seat as he held the door open, watching as she turned to fall back into the car, closing her knees together as she swung her feet inside. Before she could adjust her coat or the red outfit she wore beneath it, which had draped across the edge of the seat, Tora bent down, running his fingers along the dip between her thigh and the seat, tucking it in. Letting his fingers brush her bare skin. Would he ever touch her like that again? He let the smirk fall from his face, channeling as much heat into his gaze as he could muster, meeting her eyes for a moment. “Careful, sweetheart,” he murmured. “Teeth.”

“Oh, we’re back to teeth?” she smirked, licking her lips and glancing up above his gaze, tilting her head slightly toward the roof as though lost in thought, “the other day you said fire. So hard to keep track.” She brought her eyes back down to meet his, her smirk slipping at the look on his face.

_Shit_ , he gritted his teeth, hands shaking slightly before he pulled his lip up into a smirk, trying to save it, “you’d be surprised, Bobby.” The weight of his words sank to the bottom of his lungs, really fuckin’ hoped she didn’t read into them. Then again, maybe she should. Would make it easier later. Her eyes flicked back and forth between his, obviously not buying his bullshit. She opened her mouth to say something as Jacob coughed from the backseat. For once, Tora was relieved to have an excuse to look away from her, glancing back at Jacob who quickly looked out the window. Fuck, he really didn’t want to go to this fuckin’ party—wanted to spend the night alone with her. But maybe it was better this way—could put off the inevitable for a little longer. Just a little fuckin’ longer. He stood up quickly and closed the door, carefully avoiding Poppy’s eyes through the glass as he walked around the hood of the car while running a hand over his mouth, Joe’s ring cool against his lips, his chin. He climbed in through the open door and, as he reached for the seatbelt, he heard Poppy speak from beside him, reaching out to grab the gum from where he’d shoved it in the center console—larger than the one in his own car, though the space had still crushed the flimsy cardboard.

She beamed at him. “Tastes like ass,” he said, cracking his jaw against a smile. Shit, couldn’t help it, could feel her pride like the sun. Felt good. Real fuckin’ good. “I get a reward for tryin’?”

She clicked her teeth at him but couldn’t resist a smirk. “A reward, hmm? Have to see what you have in mind. But if you don’t like the gum, you should try the patch,” she said, putting the box back. “Granny hated it, too,” she nodded toward the box. “But the patch really helped her.”

_Huh_ , Tora nodded. Shit, after the shakes earlier that day he had an even greater appreciation for Poppy’s grandmother—lady must be fuckin’ tough. Course she was—Bobby was fuckin’ tough, too. Tora was about to pull away from the curb when he realized he still didn’t know where the fuck he was going. He lifted his hips around a grimace, as he pressed his heels into the floor, his injured quad spasming slightly at the sudden tension in the muscle as he stuck his hand in his pocket. He collapsed back into the seat with his phone in his hand, carefully thumbing in his passcode and squinting at the screen to read the text Quincey’d sent—the name of the venue. Tora knew the place—close by in the financial district, thankfully not a fuckin’ clan hotspot. He heard Poppy gasp beside him as he tossed the phone down into the center console, tucked beside the box. 

“Ya good, Bobby?” he asked, peeling away from the curb and tearing off toward the rooftop bar. She reached over to his phone, picking it up gingerly and laughing softly as he rolled his eyes, readying himself for whatever feisty shit she was about to say, “before ya go fuckin’ judgin’ _me_ ,” he pointed a finger at himself, resting his right elbow on the console between them so that his body leaned toward hers, “at least _mine_ was an accident.” She widened her eyes at him, dropping her jaw in an exaggerated gasp. “Didn’t chuck it across my kitchen, unlike someone else I know,” he said reaching over and pinching her cheek lightly. He laughed to himself, fuck, he’d missed that.

She opened her mouth to respond just as Jacob piped up from the backseat, “wait, Poppy. You threw your phone?”

Poppy sighed, turning slightly to look back at Jacob, “it’s…complicated. I didn’t _mean_ to break it, though,” she said looking back at Tora.

“Dunno ‘bout that, sweetheart,” he said, taking a left turn as he brought his right hand down to rest on the bare skin of her leg right above her knee. So warm—could feel her thigh respond to his touch immediately, goosebumps spreading under his palm as he stroked the outside of her leg with his thumb. The buildings flew by them, the lights seemed to sparkle as they passed by brightly lit windows, storefronts that eventually turned into office space, banks. Empty glass lobbies with security guards.

He smirked at her blush. Jacob didn’t seem to notice, as he pushed, “but, why throw your phone in the first place?”

Poppy moved her left hand to cover Tora’s, her fingers dipping into the spaces between his own. “Julri was texting me,” she said on a huff, her fingers squeezing Tora’s hand. He stroked her leg once more before flipping his hand over, their fingers immediately locking, palms pressing together. Could feel the ridges of her goosebumps along the back of his hand. Tora clenched his jaw, glancing up at Jacob in the rearview mirror—if he didn’t shut the fuck up Tora was gonna kick him out of the goddamned car. Couldn’t he see Bobby didn’t wanna fuckin’ talk about this?

“Shit, sorry, Poppy,” Jacob frowned, still looking out the window, the lights of the buildings flashing in his glasses. He shook his head, “should’ve told you, he stopped by the office last week after you went home early. Don’t worry,” he said quickly, “I kicked him out before Dene could see. Avoided a murder.” Tora inhaled sharply at the phrase, watched as the man shook his head on a sigh. Bobby’s hand had tightened on his and her breathing was shallow. Tora squeezed her hand slightly, peering over at her as he dipped the car into the underground lot for the building. He stopped in front of the elevator that led to the bar, “thanks, Jack. We’ll see ya up there,” Tora said, his eyes on Poppy, hopin’ Jacob had an ounce of social skill, that he could read a fuckin’ room.

Tora heard him mutter something about his name being Jacob as he got out of the car. As soon as the door was closed, Tora pulled forward, circling the lot once until they’d climbed the ramp up to the second level. Fewer cars, lots of spaces. He chose a spot near the elevator, his thumb rubbing firm circles along the back of Poppy’s hand as he turned quickly into a spot beside a large, concrete column, not checking or caring whether he was even slightly in the lines. He unbuckled quickly, turning toward her and bringing his left hand to her face, “sweetheart,” he brushed his thumb along her cheek until she looked up at him. She still hadn’t told him much about her ex—didn’t know he was aware the asshole had come by her apartment. There must be a reason she hadn’t told him, wasn’t gonna push her to say anything she wasn’t ready to share.

She met his eyes a moment later and his heart nearly fuckin’ broke. “My ex,” she said softly, “Julri.” She looked out the windshield, shaking her head, and Tora watched as something in her expression changed. “He cheated on me.” Tora clenched his jaw at her confirmation of what Ronzo’d mentioned. Everything he learned about this fucker made him hate him even more than thought he could. Who in the fuck would cheat on Bobby? She was goddamn perfect. Tora couldn’t imagine having her and choosing to leave. _Fuck, who would_ —he nearly bit his tongue. Isn’t that what he was about to do? Break her fuckin’ heart? Maybe worse—he wouldn’t even be giving her a reason. For all she’d know, it’d be like he used her for her body… _the chase_. Tora blinked slow—holy shit. He’d known this was something she was worried about—she’d fuckin’ said it the first night at Chevy’s. If he walked away now…fuck. _Devastated_. Ronzo’s word comin’ back to him. Except, he’d be the one to break her, worse than any bullet could. He knew firsthand how bad invisible pain could fuck a person up. That mental shit, deep down.

He swallowed, making up his mind, shit, he really hadn’t even let himself consider this as an option. Why hadn’t he considered it? _Cause ya fuckin’ weak. Scared. A coward._ Fuck, Quincey was right. He was terrified, he realized, that she’d walk away. And what if she was actually who Quincey said she was? Tora hadn’t let himself really entertain the idea, kept pushing it away—Wilkes was a common enough name, right? But if she _was_ …then a rejection would mean that even the girl who’d called him a good egg all those years ago— _shit_. It’d mean he wasn’t. He knew he wasn’t, but her words, for so long her words had tethered him to the idea that he could be more than Vincent’s dog, more than the monster. His throat burned at the thought that it might not have been true, ever. She hadn’t known him then, and she didn’t know him now—not fully. Tora watched as she frowned at something in the space just before the windshield. He’d need to bare himself to her, for real this time. Would need to tell her—not specific details, didn’t want her bein’ a fuckin’ accomplice to his crimes—but he’d need to tell her what he did in the mafia. What he’d done. What he continued to do—including this past week. Had to be her choice. He swallowed again, trying to calm his heart—shit, when? When would be too soon? Too late? When should he—

“It’s hard for me to trust people,” she said, looking back at Tora. “He gaslit me all the time…” she trailed off on a sigh. A moment passed as Tora watched her, waiting. “I know it’s going to take a while for me to come back from that. But I keep reminding myself of something my dad used to say. That it’s okay, sometimes, not to be okay.” She paused, licked her bottom lip. “So long as you come back.” Tora felt his lips part, his brows drawing together as he searched her eyes. She tilted her head, her eyes roaming his face before stilling, locked back on his gaze. “You know that, right?”

Tora held her gaze— _did she know?_ He swallowed, inhaling once, “dunno if it’s so easy, Bobby.”

She leaned her head back against the seat, rolling slowly from side to side, “never said it was easy.”

Tora let out a long sigh, mirroring her movements, letting the side of his head rest back on the seat. “Some things ya can’t come back from, sweetheart,” he said after a long pause.

She considered him for a long moment, her eyes dropping to the side of his neck, the scars, before she met his gaze again. “I don’t know if I believe that,” she said. His heart leapt to his throat at the thought that there was even a sliver of a chance. But murder was fuckin’ murder. He was no fuckin’ good for her. And besides, her connection to him was dangerous for both of them.

“Poppylan…”

She leaned forward, bringing her hand up to his jaw, his eyes closing at her touch, his own hand coming up to grip hers against his face for a moment before sliding her palm over his mouth, pressing a kiss to the center of her hand. When he opened his eyes, she was smiling softly at him.

He narrowed his eyes slightly, “whatcha thinkin’, Bobby?”

She hummed, smiling wider and shaking her head. “Just realized something.” He cocked a brow at her in question. “Some other time,” she said. “We have a party to get to.” He released her hand, nodding and bending over to her side of the car, reaching for Bull on the floor beside her feet. “Are you taking him with?” Tora paused, looking up at her, his brows drawing together in confusion.

“Well, yeah,” he said, tilting his head on a small frown, “won’t he dry out?” She smiled, biting her lip between her teeth—fuck, he loved watchin’ her do that. But he was still confused as hell. Had he been schleppin’ the plant everywhere for no reason? He could’ve left him in the car at the drugstore? He hadn’t needed to come on the mission? What if he’d dropped him from the rafters of the warehouse? He looked down at the dinosaur, fuck, what a fuckin’ dumbass.

Her fingers were soft on his jaw as she turned his face back toward her, “I think it’s cute you’ve been taking him everywhere,” she smiled. “Let’s bring him,” she reached down to scoop up the plant and Tora’s breath caught at the image of her hands on the dinosaur, knowing it’d only take a little luminol and he’d still be able to see his bloody palm prints smeared under her fingers. She touched his arm and Tora pulled himself from the memory.

“Cute, huh,” he said, “ya the only one who thinks so, Bobby.” He grabbed his phone from the console and pushed himself out of the car, walking around to her side while trying not to limp. His fuckin’ leg seemed to have gotten worse—Quince should have a first aid kit in the car, and he had one in the go-bag, too, though no liquid bandage in his—just old school needle and thread. Not exactly a quick fuckin’ fix. He opened the door for her and, as she swung her legs out, he extended a hand, helping her from the car. Once she’d placed both feet on the concrete and stood, she tightened her fingers around his as she pulled him down suddenly against her, humming as she kissed him. Fuck, he’d never get tired of kissin’ her, of the way she _wanted_ to touch him. He groaned against her mouth, moving to stand more directly in front of her, pressing her up to the car as he let his fingers slip from hers, planting his hands along the roof, one palm at either side of her head as he felt her run her tongue along his teeth. She cradled Bull in one arm, her other palm drawing up the length of his torso until she’d wrapped her hand around the back of his neck, pulling him down closer to her.

Tora closed his eyes, listening to the sounds of their sharp inhales just as the sound of a police siren echoed through the parking garage. He stiffened automatically against her, pulling away on an exhale as the siren faded. She tilted her head, smirking up at him slightly, “boss level thug, huh.”

His eyebrows shot up at her tone, her smirk. “Thought I was the driver,” he said, stepping back from the car and shutting the passenger door, placing his hand on the small of her back as they walked to the elevator.

“Pffff,” she blew her lips and turned her entire body back to look at the car, tilting her head until it practically touched her shoulder before she turned to look back at him, one brow cocked. He rolled his eyes, not needing to look to know he was nowhere near being between the lines. She stepped closer to him as they walked, her side brushing his as he brought his hand back down just above the swell of her ass. Despite the thick material, the jacket did little to hide her curves, a belt cinching her waist. “So, did you take Bullony with you everywhere this week?” she asked him as they stepped into the elevator, her free hand stroking the leaves of the plant. Tora pressed the button for the roof and quickly looked away from the metal doors as they slid shut, instead turning his gaze down to Bobby leaning against his side. The plant. Her fingers giving him love. Tried not to think of the last time he’d ridden up an elevator, his body nearly unrecognizable, save for his eyes, hollow. His clothes saturated with blood, the stink of it in the metal box. He closed his eyes, inhaling deeply as he dropped his nose to the top of her head, her hair so soft, so sweet.

He nodded against her head, “mmhmm.”

Could hear the smile in her voice as she asked, “how come?”

Tora raised his head, looking down at her—she was watching his reflection in the doors. He bit the inside of his mouth, slowly dragging his gaze to meet hers in the reflection. The little plant nestled in her arms, safe. “Didn’t want him to die,” he said, swallowing at the notion that he’d cared for a plant more than the human lives he’d snuffed out. Suddenly, brutally. Kids. Fuck, he really was a sick fuckin’ bastard. Monster.

“I told you, though, you’d have to really try to kill this guy,” she smiled down at the plant. “Succulents are resilient, thrive in dry climates. You don’t even really need to water them.” Well, fuck—would’ve been helpful to know that _before_ he’d taken him on his fuckin’ murder mission.

He huffed. “Bobby, ya said he’d dry out.” He frowned at her reflection as she giggled, the doors opening slowly, as he turned his head to meet her eyes.

“All plants are different, Tora. Some need more care than others.” She stepped off the elevator and onto the roof as he held his arm against the door, thinking over her words. Were they still talkin’ about plants? “You just have to listen to them, learn what they need…” she trailed off, her fingers stroking the leaves as the elevator doors shut behind them.

“And give ‘em love.”

He smirked as she turned to beam at him, “of course. It’s the most important food group.” Tora laughed as she slipped her hand into his, pulling him toward the bar.

“Thought that was ya sweets.” He glanced up at the sky—cloudless as dusk settled over the city. Couldn’t really see the stars here, the lights of the buildings around them hazy in the air above them. He’d only been up here a couple times with Quincey, was a little too open for Tora’s taste. Most of the rooftop was uncovered, save for the actual bar top which was framed by columns of white brick that supported a small overhang. Only reason he felt somewhat comfortable being so exposed was that the surrounding buildings were all shorter than theirs—at least they couldn’t be gunned down from above. As they walked to the bar, Tora glanced back to the area tucked off to the side of the elevators—a seating place, a couple couches around a low table that had a small fire pit in the center. It was chilly out, the breeze from the river gusting up the side of the building and sweeping over the roof—he watched for a moment as the flames leapt lightly before settling back down.

Poppy tugged on his arm and nodded toward the end of the bar where he saw Quincey standing with Jacob and Cordelia. Shit, he hadn’t known she’d be here. Every time he had to be in the same space as Quincey’s on-and-off-again fuck buddy, he ended up chain smokin’ his way through an entire goddamn pack. She seemed to like testing his patience just for the hell of it, frequently commenting about his silent demeanor. Another reason he hated beta-reading for his brother. No matter how many times he’d told Quince not to invite her over when he was there, the man didn’t seem to listen. Was determined to make them like each other, his _two favorite people_ , as he liked to say. Tora clenched his jaw as he nodded at his brother, feeling a stab of relief when Quincey simply smiled and waved at them, calling “everything’s paid for, honey. Eat, drink!” before turning back to his conversation with the others. He watched as Cordelia briefly turned around, her bright blue eyes flicking quickly over Tora in favor of his date. She smiled, her eyes moving up and down Poppy and then back to Tora. She tilted her head and then turned back to Quincey who was talking loudly over the bar’s music about his latest chapter’s developments. Somethin’ about a moon cave. Tora rolled his eyes, stifling a sigh—at least the man had kept his word. The party was small like Tora’d asked, seemed like he’d booked the bar just for the occasion. He glanced at Poppy who was smirking up at him.

“So grumpy,” she said, giggling as she moved to the bar, resting Bullony on the white, stone surface. “Did you want anything?” she turned to ask him. Tora smirked, tilting his head and letting his eyes fall down her back, her bare legs, the straps around her ankles before flicking back up to meet her gaze as she blushed. “To eat,” she clarified, and Tora smiled wider, biting his lower lip.

“Matter of fact, I do.”

Her lips parted in a soft gasp just as the bartender walked over to them from where he’d been helping Jacob at the other end. “Evening, folks,” he said, smiling broadly, “roof’s yours for the night, open bar—what can I get ya?”

Poppy quickly turned to look at the man as Tora approached her from behind, sitting down on the stool beside her and raising his right foot so that it rested on the seat on her other side, boxing her in as he leaned against the bar with his left elbow. He swallowed a grimace as his right thigh spasmed around the gash, the fabric of his pants rubbing painfully against the open wound. Tora heard her ask the bartender something, but he was focused on the hem of her jacket, the slip of red material poking out. He brought his right hand toward her to skim the soft fabric, the color of one of Quincey’s favorite wines, his fingertips lightly brushing the bare skin of her thigh, smirking as he heard her breath catch.

The bartender turned from them, ducking to grab something a little further down the counter as Poppy whipped her head around to look at him. “Definitely hungry, Bobby,” he murmured, fingers tracing circles against her skin as he dipped once every so often beneath the red fabric, “what’s on the menu tonight?”

Her gaze fell to his lips as he spoke and he smirked, running his tongue along his teeth, watching as her blush deepened. “Guess you’ll have to wait and see,” she said finally, looking back up at him as the bartender quietly slid two glasses over to them, moving away quickly. Smart man. Tora took a deep inhale, adjusting his hips slightly at the look in her eyes. Sweet fuck, he wanted her. He swallowed, glancing over at the glasses and smiling at the pink liquid she’d ordered for them, reaching his left hand out to grab the glass closest to him and hand it to her before bringing the other to his lips. Couldn’t get ahead of himself—was certain she’d have no interest in letting him stick his face between her legs ever again once she knew what he did for a living. What he really did. Didn’t stop his cock from jumping at the thought of tasting her again, though. Feeling her writhe under his hands, the warmth of her around his fingers, her soft moans. Fuck. He watched as she sipped her drink, putting his own back down on the bar before he hooked his foot around the rung of the stool beside her, tugging it closer to them. He nodded for her to sit and, when she had, he leaned forward, grabbing either side of the seat and pulling her toward him into the space where his legs spread wide around her. Needed to be close to her, for as long as they had left.

She laughed softly into her drink as she peered over at him. Fuck, he’d missed her laugh. “What’s so funny, Bobby?” he murmured around a smile, one arm wrapping around her back, his palm resting on the thick material of her jacket over her upper thigh. She shook her head before looking out at the skyline that flashed up at them from behind the bar. Tora followed her gaze—could see the river like a dark vein winding along the edge of the city where the lights suddenly cut out, disappearing into a sea of trees, blackened under the dim blue light of night creeping up between the spaces of the buildings along the southeastern horizon.

“Just thinking…” she said. Tora turned his gaze back to the side of her face, reaching up with his left hand to tuck her hair behind her ear. “I should want to be here, should want to go over there and mingle,” she said, nodding toward the end of the bar. “But I keep wishing we had time to ourselves.” Tora nodded, lifting his glass and taking a sip, enjoying the way the strawberry juice coated his tongue, washing the mint and nicotine down his throat. He looked around the roof, eyes landing on the seating area behind them, tucked in the corner with the fire.

“Come on,” he squeezed her thigh once before standing, stepping backwards over his stool, tucking Bull under the arm that held his drink and reaching his other hand toward her which she gripped tightly, letting him lead her away from the bar.

“Oooh, warm,” she smiled, releasing his fingers and moving ahead of him toward the fire, her hand still extended backwards toward him. _Pfft, cute hamster_. He followed her, sitting down on the couch, and leaning forward to set Bull on the table beside the flames before thinking better of it and wedging the plant between his leg and the armrest. Tora relaxed back into the couch, his right knee skimming her thigh, unbuttoning his jacket before settling his right arm along the top of the couch cushion, watching as she warmed herself, hands held out to the fire in front of them. He ran his eyes up and down her back, swallowing at the way her hair spilled over her shoulders, could still smell her sweet scent on him despite the breeze. _Happy for you_ , Fred’s jagged writing on the takeout box. _I’m happy for you_ , Quincey’s eyes locked on his in the car, his jaw clenched with resolve. _You deserve to be—_ Poppy turned around, meeting his eyes and bending slightly as she pulled the ends of her hair over her chest, smiling sheepishly at him. He raised his brows in question, _what the hell was she doin’?_ “My butt’s cold,” she said softly, before bending over further as she laughed at the expression on his face, his jaw slack.

“Well, shit, Bobby. I can help with that,” he shifted his hips slightly—fuck, he really needed to keep it together. They were in fuckin’ public and the Quincess was nearby. That’s all he fuckin’ needed. He’d been fuckin’ lucky the man hadn’t brought up the condom that’d fallen from his pocket last week. No way did he need him seein’ his fuckin’ hard-on for Bobby through his thin fuckin’ pants. Besides, Claude and Scharch might be around, too. At that thought, Tora felt some of the blood return to his head. He flicked his eyes around the roof toward the bar. Hadn’t seen the fuckers on the way in, but he’d also been pretty fuckin’ distracted.

He made to shift away from her down the couch in case they were still around, but froze, completely unable to move as his eyes returned to Poppy who had undone the belt on her jacket, was unbuttoning the material at the front, slowly revealing the skin of her chest, her neckline dipping so low, the gentle swell of her tits against the red fabric that clung to her curves as she shrugged the coat from her shoulders. His mouth ran dry as his eyes ran up and down her body, couldn’t think straight, his cock stiffening in his briefs, pushing firm against the material. It’d been so long since he’d been inside her, since he’d seen her body. Could imagine what she’d feel like through the dress, under the dress. And for once, her skirt was loose around her legs, flowing out from where the material cinched around her waist—easy fuckin’ access. The dress blew lightly in the breeze, fluttering around her smooth legs, the light of the fire behind her highlighting the dip down the side of her thigh. Wanted nothin’ more than to take her home, unwrap her slowly, savor every minute he had with her.

She dropped the coat onto the couch and when she turned, Tora’s leg jumped reflexively, a groan escaping up his throat. _Sweet everlovin’ fuck_ —the dress was backless. Just a thin strip of the red material around her neck, the only thing holdin’ her tits in. She glanced over her shoulder at him, eyes wide in alarm at the sound he’d made before she smirked in understanding, his breathing shallow as he tried to drag his eyes up to meet hers from the small of her bare back, the swell of her ass. Couldn’t. Couldn’t stop staring at her, his eyes roamed her body with open desire, hunger. Fuck, he wanted her, needed her. Right here by the fire, party be damned. Quincey be damned. He could feel his nostrils flaring as he sucked his bottom lip between his teeth. Could see the pink horizontal imprint that cut across her spine, an echo of where her bra had pressed into her earlier that day and, as she sat back onto the couch, he brought his hand to her skin, stroking his fingertips along the line. Couldn’t resist, needed to feel her.

As she pressed back into the whisper of his touch, he could feel the vibrations from her hum rush up his fingers, his forearm, straight to his core. “Bobby,” he breathed as she shifted so that his arm wrapped around her, giving her access to nestle up against his side.

She took a sip of her drink, “Tora?”

“Fuck, sweetheart,” he said, shaking his head. “Ya gotta warn me next time.” He knew he had a dazed expression on his face, didn’t fuckin’ care.

She frowned slightly, “warn you?”

“Goddamn, Bobby,” he practically groaned as she shifted against him, the warmth of her tit pressing against his ribs, pushing up against the red neckline that plunged between her breasts. He exhaled harshly, breath ragged as he gazed down at her, her wide goddamn eyes, the soft rise and fall of her chest in the flickering light of the fire. Fuckin’ mesmerizin’. “Ya killin’ me, that dress is…” he trailed off, inhaling deeply and letting it out in a rush.

The corner of her mouth quirked up as she bit her lip, her eyebrows pulling together in doubt. “You like it?”

“ _Like_ it?” he could feel his eyes widen, his neck push forward as he lowered his head to meet her gaze. “Bobby, I fuckin’ love it.” He swallowed, stopping himself from continuing, from voicing the words. Could never say them. “Can barely think,” he murmured.

“Excuse me?” Tora whipped his head around, quickly leaning forward to hide his obvious desire for her as he looked up at the server who’d approached their couch with a tray. Tora inclined his head, unable to speak. “Just dropping this off, the blonde man at the bar said you looked f-famished?” She stuttered on the last word as Tora peered around her, quickly finding and nailing Quincey with a murderous glare as the man waved at him, smirking around his glass of wine. The little shit.

“Oh, thanks so much,” Poppy put a hand on Tora’s shoulder, trying to push him back into the seat as he engaged his core, braced against her hand, unmoving even as she pressed harder against him. No way was he leaning back yet, was still hard as fuck and, short of adjusting himself in front of the server, there was nothing he could do to hide it. Poppy huffed, finally deciding to lean forward instead so she could see the woman who had watched the exchange with a look of bemusement, “could I trouble you for a water, too?” The woman nodded, looking at Tora for a second as though debating whether or not to ask him if he’d also like a water, before quickly turning away and striding back toward the bar. “What was that?” Poppy asked, nudging him with her elbow.

“Didn’t wanna fuckin’ flash her, Bob,” he said, glancing toward the bar and waiting until he was sure no one was looking before he leaned back quickly, shoving his hand in his pocket and pulling his cock up into the waistband of his briefs. Poppy’s mouth fell open in a wide smile before she tried to stifle a giggle behind her hand. “Yeah, yeah, like I said, Bobby,” he aimed a heated stare at her as he drew his hand out from his pocket, “some warnin’ next time. Bet ya wouldn’t like it if everyone knew when ya were turned on. Wouldn’t be able to read ya dirty books anywhere but ya apartment,” he said, smirking as she blushed.

“I don’t read them in public,” she whispered.

“Oh yeah? So whaddaya read at work?”

He smiled slowly as she opened and closed her mouth before turning to the tray of food the server had left at the corner of the low table. “That’s for work,” she said finally, popping a piece of shrimp into her mouth as she avoided his gaze.

Tora blinked slowly at her, still smiling, arching a brow as he waited for her to look at him. “So ya get all hot and bothered at work?” He watched her swallow the bite, eyes lingering at her throat before trailing down to the shadow between her tits. “Ya still wet when it’s time to go home, Bobby?” he murmured, letting his smile fall into a straight line, his eyes burning into hers. “How ‘bout now?” Her chest heaved lightly as her breathing sped up, her flush dipping down her neck, her chest, the insides of her tits. Fiery in the light of the flames.

“Pops!” Tora whipped around at the sudden shout from the elevators as Poppy’s purple-haired friend threw her hands in the air, nearly knocking the glass of water from the server’s hand as she side-stepped on her way back to the fire. “Oh, shit, sorry,” Erdene called after her, hurrying toward them, her hands flapping uselessly after the server. _Fuck_ , Tora frowned, no way was he getting that moment back—had wanted to see if he could make the skin beneath her tits blush, too. He grabbed his drink off the table in front of them, looking back up at Erdene a moment later and nearly dropping the glass as his eyes found Damien, dressed in a suit and looking around the roof as he stepped off the elevator. The man’s eyes nearly popped out of his head when he saw Tora, who was squinting at him in confusion. He’d thought maybe he’d mistaken him for a different pink-haired fucker, but Tora could see his neck tattoo from across the roof—was sure as shit his man. What the fuck was he doin’ here? Had Quince invited the clan after all? Tora’s heart nearly stopped at the thought. No, he wouldn’t be that stupid, that careless, especially after seeing the way Tora’d arrived at the penthouse just a couple hours ago, would he? Knowin’ how Tora felt about Poppy?

Erdene stepped over Tora’s legs as he quickly pulled them in, trying to make sure his cock didn’t spring free from his undies while Poppy was tugged up from the couch and into a hug, “girl, you look hot as _fuck_ ,” she said, swaying her back and forth a couple times before releasing Poppy. She smiled down at Tora for a second before looking back at Poppy and gesturing out behind her. “You remember Damien?” she asked.

Tora looked at Poppy then back at Damien. _What the fuck?_ How the fuck did she know Damien? She’d said Tora was the only thug she knew. Sure, she’d been teasing, but shit, he’d thought she was serious. “Hey,” Poppy waved at him, “sorry for crashing your date…” she trailed off, smiling sheepishly. Tora frowned. Damien hadn’t taken his eyes off of Tora, was approaching slower than he probably would’ve normally. Wary of the tiger.

“Yeah, no worries. Poppy, right?” he asked, glancing at her as she nodded. “Feel like I’ve seen you somewhere el—” Damien choked around the last word, his eyes quickly shooting to Tora who was glaring at him. _Fuckin’ shit_. He’d seen her on her balcony, fuck. Which meant he fuckin’ knew that’s where she lived. Damien was sharp, could put two and two together, would understand now why Tora’d stationed his men in that part of the city. Outside that particular building. It was bad enough Ronzo knew, fuck, pretty soon the whole fuckin’ clan’d know. _Goddamned motherfuckin’_ —

“Huh, I think just from Erdene’s place,” Poppy said, taking a sip of her drink and smiling lightly. In his peripherals, Tora saw her glance over at him. As one of the smartest people he knew, there was no way she hadn’t picked up on somethin’ weird. Perceptive as fuck.

“And this is Tora,” Erdene said, nodding toward him as Tora quickly schooled his expression into something less murderous.

She climbed past Poppy to sit on the couch opposite them as Damien cleared his throat, “sup.” He quickly moved to sit beside Erdene, perching on the edge of the couch as she tried to pull him back towards her, his eyes flicking between the fire and Tora every few seconds, his jaw tight.

Tora rolled his eyes, watching as Erdene finally succeeded in pulling Damien backwards onto the couch where he reclined stiffly. _We work together_ , he was about to say before stopping himself. Maybe there was a reason Damien was pretending not to know him in front of the women. He’d tell Poppy later, no need to accidentally fuck his man over. 

“Dene, you left, like, way before we did,” Poppy started, “how come—” she broke off suddenly, blushing furiously as Damien shifted in his seat, looking at his shoes and Erdene smirked. “So, it’s an open bar,” Poppy changed the subject immediately, gesturing back to where Quincey was standing.

“Ooooh, great,” Erdene said and, before she could even turn to look at Damien, the man had shot up out of his seat, his hand gripping hers.

“Why don’t we get something to drink,” he said quietly, his eyes widening slightly at Erdene who tilted her head and grinned slowly.

“Yeah, let’s,” she said, allowing him to pull her up from the couch. “We’ll be back,” she called over her shoulder. As Damien led her toward the bar, Tora watched as Erdene suddenly pulled on his hand, making a beeline for the area around the corner from the elevator and dragging him along.

_Pfft, pfft,_ Tora turned back to Poppy, watching her snort into her drink. “Sorry about that,” she laughed. “Erdene can be…” she leaned her head back looking at the sky for a second, searching for the rest of her sentence. “Erdene,” she finished lamely as Tora raised his eyebrows at her. She shrugged, “so, how do you know Damien?” she asked, sipping her drink.

He huffed a laugh. Fuckin’ figured. “Coworkers,” he said, taking a gulp from his own glass as she regarded him, clearly waiting for more.

“Like…bodyguard coworkers or like mafia coworkers?” she lowered her voice on the word _mafia_ , and Tora couldn’t help but laugh, but he sobered pretty quickly at the realization that he didn’t know if Damien had shared that information with Erdene.

“The second,” he said slowly, looking up at her.

“Mmm,” she hummed, nodding. “So. He your boss?” she asked lightly, her eyes bright with suppressed laughter.

Tora raised his eyebrows, “whaddaya think, Bobby? He seem like my boss?”

She smirked, glancing down at the drink in her hands as she nestled back against his side. Tora brought his arm back around her, palm cupping her hip as he tossed back the rest of his drink. “He looked a little scared of you.” Tora tightened his jaw, pulling the inside of his cheek between his molars. She didn’t get it—knew he was in the mafia, that he carried a gun, but she didn’t really know what any of that fuckin’ meant. The reality of it. Of course Damien was scared of him, fuck. His boss was the fuckin’ Tiger of Ares Street. “Maybe he just doesn’t know you that well,” she said finally. Could feel her eyes on his face as he looked away toward the bar where it seemed like Quincey, Cordelia, and Jacob were ordering more drinks.

“Knows me fine,” he bit out, turning the empty glass in his hand. In truth, she was right—Damien didn’t really know him. None of his men did. Only Quincey, really, but even he didn’t know the side of himself that Bobby brought out. Hell, he hadn’t even known it existed two weeks ago. His eyes flicked down to the plant pressed against his hip.

“Why is he scared of you?” she asked softly, her finger tracing his knee, the side of her shin drawing closer to his leg, pressing against his.

Tora took a deep breath, “dunno if ya wanna get into it here, Bobby,” he murmured, running his tongue over his teeth. He gazed out at the city lights around them, a helicopter in the distance circling overhead, inaudible over the breeze up the side of the building, the flames crackling in front of them, the faint music from the speaker system above the bar. “Told ya, got a reputation,” his eyes found a corner window of one of the shorter buildings across from where they sat. Focused on the soft light of a TV flickering—somebody’s home. Wondered if they lived alone or if the apartment housed a couple, a family? What it’d be like to live in such a vulnerable position, to feel secure enough to leave the blinds open against the darkness, the lights on inside for everyone to see. What it’d be like if that were him and Bobby, watchin’ a movie or somethin’, not talkin’ about his life in the fuckin’ mafia.

She sank into him further and he felt her nod against his shoulder. “A tiger,” she murmured, looking at his other leg, the tattoo hidden under the fabric of his pants.

He stiffened and she pulled back to look at him. Tora breathed in, out. The light of the TV, wavering. In, out.

“Hey,” she said, her fingers on his jaw, his chin as she guided his face to look at her. “You don’t have to tell me yet if you’re not ready. But,” she paused, “if this is going anywhere…” she trailed off, holding his gaze and steeling herself. He swallowed, waited, his heart in his fuckin’ throat. “I need to know you’ll be ready at some point. I can’t do secrets again—not big ones.” Her eyes were wide, firm in her resolve. Tora nodded. So, soon then. He’d need to tell her soon, no question about that anymore. If he had any chance at makin’ this work, he had to be honest with her. Her choice.

He shifted the glass to his right hand, holding out his left pinky to her. She smiled, looking down at his finger before wrapping her own around it. A moment later, she’d released him, reaching for the tray of food and nudging him with her leg. “If you don’t have any, I’m just going to have whatever I want,” she said.

Tora huffed a laugh, sitting forward and grabbing one of the pieces of shrimp and placing it on his tongue. They ate, watching the fire crackle for a couple minutes, every once in a while, Poppy telling him to try a certain appetizer. She leaned her head against his shoulder, gazing out at the skyline along the river. “Hey, do you think we could see my apartment from here,” she said suddenly, raising her head back up as though she were trying to find it in the shadows of the buildings around them.

“ _Pfft, pfft_ , first of all, Bobby,” he laughed, putting his hand on top of her head and guiding her to look in the other direction, “ya place is that way.” She turned to look at him, rolling her eyes, his fingers tangling on the top of her head at her movement. “And second of all, nah. Maybe in the daytime, but not right now. Too dark,” he said, smiling at her as she ducked her head out from under his hand, running her fingers through her hair to smooth it out again.

“How can you even tell?” she said, leaning forward to grab a skewer of meat and cheese. “What are you, Google maps?” she placed her teeth around the cube of cheese, drawing it slowly off the toothpick as she raised an eyebrow.

He smirked at her, “know this city inside and out, Bobby.” He brought his hand up to brush her hair back behind her shoulder, his eyes dropping to the low cut of her neckline as his fingers trailed down her back, swallowed. Fuckin’ sexy.

“Well, which way is your place?” she asked, shivering at his touch as his hand stilled on her. He flicked his eyes up to meet hers, making a quick decision. She’d asked him to be honest—he could start now, something small. Ease her into the harsh fuckin’ reality of his life, hope it wasn’t—what? Too much? Fuck.

He lifted the hand holding the glass, pointing his index finger in the direction of his shithole apartment. She followed the invisible line he’d drawn, almost like she might be able to see it at the end, and he swallowed, watching her eyes scan over the buildings. “Can’t see it from here, Bobby, same as yours,” he said softly as she turned back to look at him.

“What’s it like?”

“What’s it like? Shit, sweetheart,” he leaned forward, placing the glass on the table in front of them and scratching the back of his neck as he leaned back into the couch. “Opposite of ya place.”

She narrowed her eyes at him, “what’s that supposed to mean?”

“ _Pfft_ , not an insult, Bobby,” he said, reaching out and pinching her cheek, “fuckin’ feisty,” he murmured. For some reason, she didn’t pull away like she normally did, and Tora found his hand moving to cup her face, his thumb stroking her cheek. He shook his head, taking a deep breath, “s’not a home. I sleep there,” he said before tilting his head, smirking lightly at her, “sometimes.” When she didn’t smile back, he let his face fall, his hand dropping to his lap. “It’s just a place where I keep my shit. Don’t spend much time there. No stars on the ceilin’, no little lights, no plants,” he said. “Except Bullshit, but he’s new,” Tora smiled to himself. The little plant had really fuckin’ grown on him. He smirked when she rolled her eyes, correcting him with the name she’d given the plant. He reached forward, resting the back of his hand on his knee, palm up and fingers open, smiling as she immediately accepted the invitation, threading her fingers through his. “Hell, Bobby, don’t even think I got food in the fridge,” he said after a moment.

“Well, you were out of town…” she trailed off, eyes roaming his face.

“Yeah.” He met her gaze, swallowing. “Like I said, sweetheart. S’not a home.”

“Hmm,” she said after a moment. “My Granny always says that home isn’t a place, it’s a feeling.” She reached out and grabbed another skewer off the tray as Tora watched. How the fuck did she always know exactly what to say? So fuckin’ open, accepting. Shit, he really didn’t fuckin’ deserve her at all.

Tora noticed movement in the corner of his eye, and he turned his head to look toward the bar where Quincey and the rest of the party were walking toward the fire. “Got company,” he murmured, squeezing her hand and loosening his fingers in case she wanted to move her hand. He bit the inside of his mouth against a smile as she tightened her grip on him.

“Oooh, looks cozy,” Quincey drawled, plopping down on the couch across from them as Cordelia leaned against the arm, martini in hand. She cocked an eyebrow as she took in the sight of Poppy’s hand in Tora’s, the corner of her lip pulling up. Jacob, Erdene, and Damien climbed past them, Erdene flopping down onto the third couch and pulling Damien down beside her who sat with his back straight, eyes flicking to Tora every couple moments. Quincey waited for Jacob to sink down in the open spot beside him before gesturing across the fire to Poppy. “Honey, this is Cordy,” he put a hand on Cordelia’s knee as she lifted her palm to the top of his head, absently stroking her fingers through his blonde hair.

She inclined her head toward Poppy, “pleasure. I’ve heard a lot about you,” she said around a smile, eyes flicking to Tora once before settling back on Poppy. Tora took a deep breath—the last thing he wanted right now was to listen to her bullshit. Like a fuckin’ kid sister, except they were the same goddamn age. He clenched his jaw, fingers itching for a smoke, instead stroking the back of Poppy’s hand with his thumb. He closed his eyes briefly, focusing on her sweet scent as his heartrate calmed.

Quincey held up his glass of wine, beaming at each of them for a moment before he spoke, “I don’t usually make toasts at parties—”

“ _Pfft, pfft_ ,” Tora couldn’t stop his laugh as Poppy squeezed his fingers, nudging his leg with hers as she nodded for Quincey to continue. Tora rolled his eyes at the sky, making eye contact with Damien on the way down, who had schooled his expression stoically, a smile only evident from the tears in his eyes as he forced it back. Cordelia had closed her eyes, shaking her head slightly on a soft smile, her fingers still running through Quincey’s hair.

“ _Tch,_ thank you, Tora, for that,” Quincey deadpanned. “As I was _saying_ ,” he shot a glare at his brother across the fire as Tora’s mouth fell open. Was he fuckin’ serious? “I don’t usually make toasts at parties, but this is a special moment that simply must be commemorated. Erdene, Jacob,” Quincey smiled at each of them, “I’ve never felt so welcomed before in an editorial room. You make such a wonderful team and I’m so excited that I get to work with you.” He nodded to them and Tora stopped himself from rolling his eyes. For all intents and purposes, this was a pretty tame toast by the Quincess’s standards, but he hadn’t gotten to Bobby yet. “Poppy, dear,” Quincey turned his gaze to Poppy and smiled warmly, “you are, without a doubt, one of the most personable editors I’ve ever had the pleasure of working with and I couldn’t be more excited to see what the future holds for us.” Tora looked at Bobby as she listened to Quincey, her eyebrows drawing in and up, eyes beginning to water. He squeezed her hand, smiling as she squeezed him back. Pride swelled in his chest in a warm rush, fuck, she was amazin’. “I mean, you must be special—not just _anyone_ gets to drive Tiger Boy’s car,” he said, holding his hand up to his mouth as though he were letting them all in on a well-kept secret. Tora felt his eyes widen, nostrils flare. Who the fuck had told him? _Fuckin’ Ronzo, that’s who_. As Cordelia and Quincey laughed, he felt Bobby’s other hand come to rest on his forearm, rubbing her thumb along his jacket. “So, here’s to the team,” Quincey said, raising his glass as the others mirrored his movements, “may we have a long and fruitful relationship,” he finished, taking a chug of his wine.

Poppy smiled, taking a sip of the juice in her glass before holding it out to Tora. _Pfft_ , he took the glass from her with his free hand, finding the imprint of her lips on the rim and finishing the last bit of the drink. “Lemme get ya another, sweetheart,” he said, loosening his fingers from her grip, but she stood before he could get up.

“I got it,” she smiled at him, making to move around the couch.

Tora stood, holding up the jacket for her, “it’s gonna be cold over there,” he murmured, opening the coat so she could slip into the sleeves, shrugging it up over her shoulders. He sat back down, wincing a little at the movement of his quad—shit, he’d forgotten about the gash. Seemed like the fabric of his pants had settled into the wound, helping to staunch it but had peeled away as he’d stood. Poppy walked back behind the couch, trailing her fingers along his shoulders as she passed behind him, and Tora watched her hips sway as she moved away from him. Fuck, how much longer did they have to stay here? He just wanted to take her back to her place, help her back out of her coat, see what kind of undies she was wearin’ under that dress. Fuck, he swallowed, shifting his legs slightly.

“So, you letting anyone drive your car now,” Cordelia leveled a smirk at Tora across the fire as he rolled his eyes on a huff. He was gonna fuckin’ kill Ronzo. Damn his fuckin’ leg—he was gonna fuckin’ kill him. “Or just cute editors?”

Tora glared at her then at Quincey who was shaking with silent laughter, the wine having gone straight to his motherfuckin’ head.

“Ya got someone to drive ya home, Quince? Cause it ain’t me,” Tora growled. “Ya’ll probably fall clean off Cordelia’s fuckin’ bike,” he said. Fuck, that was all he needed—Quince in a fuckin’ car crash on one of his only nights off. Vincent’d have his fuckin’ head.

Quincey rolled his eyes and Cordelia opened her mouth to bite out a retort just as Tora caught sight of Scharch making his way toward the couch. “That’d be my job,” he said, smirking at Tora as he nodded toward Quincey. Tora felt his blood run cold—how fuckin’ long had the son of a bitch been here? Had he ever left? Had he seen him with Bob—

Tora quickly turned his gaze to the bar, and felt his heart stop for a moment. And then that’s all he could hear—his heartbeat slow, thudding in his ears, deafening as he felt himself stand up, just barely remembering to grab Bull as though from a distance, not quite in his body anymore as he shouldered past Scharch who started to say something angry. Choked on the words, Tora’s glare meeting his eyes for the briefest of seconds before he locked back on the man at the bar whose facial piercings glinted in the city lights as he leaned close to Bobby, a dark smile pulling at his lips. “What do you say, brown eyes,” he asked, voice carrying on the breeze as Tora closed the distance between them. Bobby took a step back, her hand around a glass of water as she glanced toward the fire, looking for Tora, her eyes finding him a moment later. He spared a second to assess her expression—the fear, discomfort, melting away at whatever she saw in his eyes. And then she nodded. Once, barely a movement at all, but Tora felt a fierce pride as he watched her turn to level a glare at Claude. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have been DYING to write what comes in the next couple chapters for so long, cannot even tell you how excited I am. 
> 
> Credit: Co-sign app for the horoscope lol 
> 
> I started an IG @melarela1223 where I post inspo stuff and updates about CP 🍓🍓🍓 Also, if you like reading about side characters, I’ve got a series of one-shots that follow some of the characters in this timeline—more backstory on Strawberry Girl for the most part. 
> 
> Ch. 29: Tora takes out the trash and Poppy takes the wheel.


	29. To kill.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Poppy takes the wheel, and Tora must decide how much to reveal. (lol @ that rhyme)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one’s heavy, babes. Fair warning. 
> 
> As always, characters belong to the real MVP Lilydusk, brilliant creator of Midnight Poppy Land. Support her on Patreon! https://www.patreon.com/lilydusk

**Chapter 29**

Tora was on him in seconds, angling his body between Claude and Poppy as the smaller man stumbled backwards into a stool, his eyes growing wide at the sight of Tora, the dark storm across his face, the anger rolling off him in thick clouds. As much as a part of him really wanted to see Bobby go full fuckin’ hamster the way Ronzo’d said she had on her ex, the way he knew she could, this wasn’t the time—Claude and Scharch were sick fucks, didn’t want to give them any more reason than they already had to remember her, to hold a grudge. Tora slowly placed Bull on the bar, sliding the plant back toward Poppy until he felt her fingers close around the dinosaur, brushing his own, his eyes never leaving Claude’s face, watching as the man’s mouth fell open around a shallow exhale. As Tora reached out toward him, he felt Poppy’s fingers on his back, just over the spot of the kanji. He took a breath and redirected his hand from where he’d been about to grab the man’s throat, instead hooking his thumb in the dip above Claude’s collarbone, letting his fingers slide around to the back of his neck, digging, finding the nerves bundled just under the surface of the skin, his muscle.

“Private party, Lang,” Tora said lowly.

“Just here to drive him back, Big Bro,” Claude wheezed, eyes wide. Tora could feel him shaking as he tried to pull away. _Tch_ , figured Quince would call them back even though he’d made it clear as fuckin’ day he didn’t want any fuckin’ clan presence at the goddamned party. Poppy’s fingers slipped down his back, fisting in the material of his jacket above his waist. The fuck had Claude been sayin’ to her anyway? _Brown eyes_ , Tora’s nostrils flared as he ran his tongue over his molars. She’d looked uncomfortable, like she was trying to hide how terrified she was as the fucker had leaned close. And she’d backed up, stepped away from him on instinct. His Bobby.

Tora clenched his jaw, letting out a slow exhale. He rubbed his fingers along the back of Claude’s neck, pressing deeper until he could feel the man’s muscles spasm. “Can’t ya tell when a woman doesn’t want to talk to ya.”

“She was into it,” he gasped as Tora heard Poppy inhale sharp. “Come on, Big Bro, with a dress like that—”

_The fuck not_ , Tora felt his eyes flash as he quickly shifted his hold on Claude, his left hand coming up to grip the man’s face, fingers digging into the hollow of his cheek where he pressed his flesh into the ridge of the upper teeth of his open mouth, thumb like a vice on the other side of his jaw. So this fuck had been ogling her body? Thought he could say, do whatever the fuck he pleased cause of her fuckin’ dress? Tora could feel the anger burning up from his gut, a familiar vice around his chest, tight as it spread over his shoulders. Armor, as he readied himself—needed to scare the absolute shit out of this fuckhead so there was no doubt—he’d fuckin’ kill him. With his right hand, Tora reached to grab the glass from the bar that Bobby had gripped moments ago. He raised the water to his mouth, the outside sweaty against his palm, condensation running down his hand, his wrist. Icy tears down his jacket along his tendons as he held Claude’s gaze, draining the glass slow, stopping when it was nearly empty. He swallowed, pulling his bottom lip between his teeth to catch a drop that had pooled at the center, sweeping it with his tongue. “Ya know,” Tora held the glass up to the man’s face, leaning in slightly and lowering his voice, “ya only need a couple inches to drown a man. This look enough?” Tora pulled his lip up into a snarl as he waited for Claude to answer.

Claude tried to nod his head feverishly, but Tora’s grip stilled his frantic movements. Could feel his throat working, desperate to swallow his own spit.

“And, Lang,” Tora dipped his head, leaning close, his voice a low growl, “ya know I don’t even _need_ the fuckin’ water.” How many times had his targets drowned in their own blood, their ribs smashed in, lungs punctured, filled with fluid. Tora finished the rest of the water, placing it back down on the bar, the sound of Vincent’s glass shattering against the wall ringing in his ears, the scars on his neck pulsing as his heart raced with adrenaline. He watched the fear in Claude’s eyes bloom into panicked terror—knew they were both remembering his bloody image from just mere hours ago. He nodded his head across the way toward Quincey where Tora could hear him laughing with the rest of the group. “Only reason I don’t kill ya right now. Wait in the motherfuckin’ car,” Tora glanced away from Claude after the man had nodded several times, glancing up at Scharch who had moved to the elevator, his finger hovering over the button as he watched the exchange at the bar. Fuckin’ slimy scum wasn’t even steppin’ in as backup. Cunning fucker. “Both of ya,” Tora finished, looking back at Claude. “I don’t need to remind ya what happens if ya on my bad side,” Tora held his gaze, mouth slightly downturned, face blank as he remembered the way they’d reacted when he’d stepped into the penthouse. “And, fuck,” he barked a laugh, cold. His lips still pulled down. “At a certain point, even _Martin_ can’t protect ya.” Tora stood back up to his full height, looking down at Claude for a moment before releasing his face, the echo of his hand printed white across the man’s jaw, his cheek, for a moment before the blood rushed back under his skin, a vibrant red. Claude quickly turned, stumbling slightly over the stool as he made his way to the elevator where Scharch held it open, meeting Tora’s eyes briefly, the hint of a smile on his lips, something like excited awe shining in his eyes. Creepy fucker. Tora waited until the doors had shut behind them, swiping their presence from the roof, before turning back to face Poppy, rearranging his face, the anger falling away as suddenly as it’d rolled up his spine. She released his jacket, but kept her hand extended, fingers running around the circumference of his waist as he rotated until they came to rest just below his bellybutton.

“Bobby?” he brought his hands to cup either side of her face, eyes searching her expression. “Shit, ya—”

“You work with him?” Poppy asked, her mouth parted around the end of the question as she looked up at him. “Those men.” Tora swallowed, clenching his jaw. Nodded. “Quincey said they were filling in for you, but you’re back…” she said, her voice growing quieter.

He nodded again, sitting down on the stool behind him and reaching out to circle the wrist of her hand that was still extended toward him, drawing her close until she stood between his legs, his knees spread wide. “Quince gave me the weekend off.” As he spoke, Tora brought his other hand up to rest on her hip, thumb rubbing slow against her jacket. “He must’ve called them to drive him back to his place,” he huffed. “Quince doesn’t drive.”

A moment passed between them as Tora listened to the clink of glassware from the other end of the bar where the bartender had returned, clearing off the surface from where the group had stood before moving to the fire. “Bobby, I—” he broke off, pained at the look of doubt in her eyes. “I’m sorry—” _I’ll kill the fucker if he comes near ya again_. He swallowed the words back down his throat. She’d said to be honest, but shit, that was probably too goddamned honest. “Won’t let him hurt ya.” He shook his head, hoping she could read the unspoken words in his eyes, would know he meant it.

She nodded slowly as he peered at her face, her expression nearly unreadable. Finally, she spoke, “I know.” She glanced away from him, back toward the elevator before dragging her eyes back to his, her expression cracking open slowly, biting her lip around a small smile. “So then, you _are_ a driver,” she glanced over at Quincey then back at Tora as he let his mouth fall open, throwing his head back to look at the sky, letting a groan of mock frustration catch in his throat. He heard her giggle just before he looked back at her.

“The fuckin’ balls,” he murmured, biting his lip and shaking his head as he took in the smirk on her face. He was just fuckin’ relieved she’d seemed to recover so quick. Didn’t like Claude talkin’ to her at all, especially hadn’t liked the way he’d leaned toward her, _brown eyes_. Creepy son of a bitch. He didn’t have time to dwell on it, though, a sudden burning sensation on his thigh as pain shot down to his foot and back up to his hip. Tora gasped in surprise at Poppy’s hand on his leg before he could stop himself, the fabric of his pants rubbing into the open wound. He quickly grasped her wrist, lifting her hand from the gash, closing his eyes at the blood on her palm. _Fuck. Of fuckin’ course_.

She sucked in quickly, breathing his name as her eyes widened. “You’re bleeding,” she whispered, her fingers spreading wide at the stain on her hand, the creases of her palm.

“Mmhmm,” he said, pulling his lip up into what he hoped was a smirk, “perceptive hamster.”

“ _Tch_ , Tora,” she looked back at the bartender and Tora caught her hand in his before she could wave him down. “They probably have something we can—”

“First aid kit in the car,” he said, digging the keys from the inside of his jacket. She made to grab them from his fingers but he held his hand up above her. “Nah, Bobby,” he said as she reached for them, her torso pressing up against his, her thigh brushing his cock as he bit back a groan. He closed his eyes briefly at her warmth, her softness against his body and nearly dropped the keys in his haste to catch her hand again as she brought it dangerously close to the gash. “Oi, Bobby, watch ya hand,” he grunted as she snatched the keys from him.

“Mmm, sorry,” she said, drawing the back of her blood-stained hand across his cheek and pressing a kiss to his other. She backed up and Tora leaned forward, his body automatically seeking her warmth out, drawn to her as she reached out to wipe her fingers on a cocktail napkin before scooping Bull from the bar, tucking the plant in the crook of her elbow before turning to grab Tora’s hand.

“Bobby, ya party…” he trailed off as he let her lead him to the elevator, stepping gingerly with his right leg, trying not to flex his foot, as it moved the muscles in his quad painfully.

“Oh, but this is better,” she said, pushing the button and looking up at the display above the doors, watching as the numbers ticked up. “Now I get you all to myself,” she smiled, keeping her gaze trained above the elevator. “Plus, there’s no cake, so is it really even a party?”

He tilted his head, peering at her, “if I didn’t know any better, Bobby,” he murmured, “I’d think ya were happy ‘bout this,” he gestured at his leg as she shook her head.

“I mean, the circumstances aren’t _ideal_ ,” she said, still smiling. “But you’ve also managed to hide it all night, so I’m thinking it can’t be _that_ bad.”

Tora felt his eyebrows shoot up, well shit. “Fuckin’ _sadistic_ hamster,” he huffed a laugh as the doors opened and Poppy pulled him in behind her. She squeezed her hand in his, bringing her other palm to wrap around his forearm as she met his gaze in the reflection of the elevator doors. He cocked an eyebrow at her and grinned as she looked down at their feet. He let his eyes fall down her reflection—she hadn’t buttoned her coat, could see the strip of bare skin from her neck down to the place where her dress cinched her waist just beneath her tits. Tora could feel his heart at the base of his throat—was he really goin’ home with her? It seemed like she was givin’ him a chance. _I don’t know if I believe that—_ had she meant it? She didn’t know the scope of what he did, fuck, even _he_ didn’t like to think about it. Tora’s eyes fell lower to the plant nestled in her arms. No way she’d be okay with who he was. What he did. And there was no separating the two.

As the doors slid open, she dropped her hand from his forearm, pulling him from the elevator and out into the chilly lot toward the car. _Pfft,_ _she was fuckin’ right_ , he thought as he found the Lexus—fuckin’ terrible. Looked like he hadn’t even had his eyes open as he’d pulled across multiple spaces. He’d somehow managed to avoid the concrete column beside the car but, holy shit, just barely. The back lights of the car blinked and the chirping sound echoed through the lot as she unlocked it, walking to the passenger door and holding it open, nodding her head toward the seat.

His eyebrows shot up, _the fuck?_ She thought she was drivin’? “Nah-ah, sweetheart,” he shook his head, extending a hand to take the keys from her, but she quickly sidestepped him, holding them behind her back as she gripped Bull tight against her stomach.

“Tora, you’re hurt. Get in.”

“Bobby, it’s not my car—ya not drivin’,” that’s all he fuckin’ needed. “Not up for discussion, sweetheart.” He shook his head, resting a hand on the roof above the open door and leaning toward her, wrapping his hand around her waist and drawing her toward him. Even injured, he was much stronger than her, easily pulling her forward as she staggered into his torso, the plant pressed between them. He swallowed as he looked down at her—her tits pressing together, practically spilling from her neckline as she clutched Bull tightly, her face slightly flushed, chest heaving once as she met his eyes with her own determined stare.

“Tora, it’s your right leg—you need it to drive. Don’t worry, I won’t pair my phone,” she huffed.

He sighed, his hand stroking up her back, searching for her hand, the keys. “Bobby, told ya, I liked ya music. And my leg’s fine—it’s nothin’. Should see the oth—” Tora choked on the words, inhaling sharply at the memory of the boy as Tora had stepped over him on his way out of the building, a couple flies buzzing around the knife in his throat caked with blood, eyes glassy. Vacant. Poppy didn’t seem to notice his momentary slip as she seized the opportunity to push him back into the seat. Tora allowed his body to collapse into the car, turning his attention toward controlling his face, the movement of his legs swinging in, Poppy’s hands resting the plant in his lap before she tapped the seatbelt.

“Click it or ticket,” she sing-songed before gently closing the door. _Pfft_ , he reached over and threaded the belt over his chest, shifting Bullony so that the strap lay flat across his waist. Tora leaned his head against the seat, rolling against the leather to watch as she climbed into the car. She peered around the floor before sticking a hand under the seat, looking for the bar which wasn’t there.

“It’s a lever, Bobby,” he said, “‘round the side.” He leaned over and pointed across her lap to the space between the door and her seat. “Pull up and ya can slide forward,” he said, bracing his palm against the back of her chair, helping push her from behind before turning to the glove box, pulling out some of the napkins and pressing a couple to the place where his pants had grown damp with blood. Didn’t need Quince bitchin’ about stains. A moment later, Poppy had dipped her head to the right as she held her hair out of the way, searching for the ignition in the dim greenish light of the garage. “Ya know, I can still drive us,” he said after she huffed in frustration, the key scraping around the metal a couple times before she plunged it into the hole, glancing at him.

“Weren’t you the one saying just the other day that you wanted to get back in one piece?” she asked innocently, flipping on the lights and adjusting the mirrors. “I, for one, fully support that.”

Tora leaned his head back, rolling his eyes at the ceiling, could feel the blood soaking through the napkin against his fingers. Shit, hadn’t realized he was bleeding so much. Maybe it was all the fuckin’ adrenaline. “Careful of the pole, Bobby,” he murmured, rolling his head against the seat to look at the concrete column on her side of the car.

“ _Psh_ , wouldn’t need to worry about that if you’d parked correctly,” she said around a smirk, slowly backing out of the space while leaning forward, her eyes glancing between the mirrors and the display on the center console which had lit up to show a visual behind the trunk. 

He frowned, looking back at her, “Bobby, ya gotta turn around to see where ya goin’—what the f—”

She shushed him quickly, biting her lower lip in concentration as her brows pulled together, turning the wheel slowly, her eyes on the camera feed. “No one likes a backseat driver,” she muttered. Tora huffed a laugh as she finally pulled away from the wall, stopping the car briefly and turning to him, one hand on the wheel as she reached the other toward his face. “But you’re cute, so I guess it’s okay. Just this once,” she added with a smirk, pinching his cheek as he rolled his eyes, trying to keep the smile off his face. She laughed softly at his expression before putting the car in drive, rolling them forward back down the ramp to street level. “So which way to your place,” she said, her tongue between her teeth as he watched her hold her breath, not daring to look over at him, her eyes trained out the windshield as they circled down to the lower level.

Tora swallowed, his mouth suddenly dry as his fingers gripped Bull tightly. “Bobby,” he said, watching her profile in the dim lighting of the garage as they passed beneath the fluorescent beams. “How ‘bout some other t—” he watched as her jaw clenched, her face pinching as she inclined her head. Felt his excuse die in his throat. She’d rolled to a stop at the exit of the lot, her left hand poised over the turn signal, eyes wide as she waited for him to finish. Her expression guarded, like she was ready for him to disappoint her, like she already knew that he’d choose to close himself off. Again. Wouldn’t grant her this bit of honesty even though she’d opened her home, her arms to him so many times already. _Well, fuck_. How could he say no to that? “Take a left,” he said.

Her lips parted on a soft exhale as she released the breath she’d been holding in her lungs, couldn’t stop the smile from climbing up her face as she bit her lip in a valiant effort to control her expression. Tora listened to the steady click of the turn signal as she turned away from him to look up and down the street before pulling forward back between the buildings of downtown Narin. He felt his breathing constrict, like a fist around his lungs, his throat, as he directed her closer and closer to his building, the city streets growing less and less populated, darker. The buildings wide and squat, warehouses and lofts at the ends of deserted lots. Hardly any vegetation—not even the little plots of land the government cultivated in the ritzy parts of the city. Bus stops with run-down shelters, graffitied overpasses where the train tracks cut over the roads. He pointed ahead, his building coming up on the right—a concrete box rising up from a half-empty parking lot. “Careful, there’s broken glass near the pothole,” he murmured as she maneuvered the wheels up into the lot and around the place where he’d pointed.

He could hear his heart pounding in his ears as she cut the engine, withdrawing the keys and turning to look at him as he stared up at the building, not really seeing it, eyes unfocused as he ran his tongue over his teeth. He reached toward the console without really thinking, fingers scrabbling around for his lighters, the pack of cigarettes—neither of which were there—instead, finding the gum wedged into the space. Tora clenched his jaw against the disappointment—fuck, he really needed a goddamn smoke. Gum tasted like shit, but he quickly pulled a piece out, popping it between his teeth and cracking the coated shell, chewing until his tongue tingled, rolling it against his cheek.

“Hey,” he felt Poppy’s fingers on his forearm and turned to meet her worried gaze. “We can go to my place,” she said softly, “just…tell me how to get there. Not sure I could find the way…” she trailed off, watching him carefully until all he could hear was his heart, his shallow breathing. Could she hear it, too? Fuck, so loud. He watched as she glanced down at his left hand which, he realized as though through a fog, he’d been stroking along Bull’s spikey leaves. As her thumb pressed along his jacket, Tora took a deep breath, looking up at his unit. _Coward_. Fuck.

“I’m on the top floor,” he said after another moment, nodding up through the windshield. “Gotta grab my bag and the first aid kit from the trunk.” He chewed the gum again, his tongue tingling— _shit_ , it really wasn’t the goddamn same. At least it was takin’ the edge off. Tora picked up the box, wedging it under his arm against Bull as he grasped the handle, pushing himself from the car, hearing Poppy on the other side mirroring his movements after sliding the seat back. He tapped on the trunk lightly and she fiddled with the keys for a second before finding the release button. After scooping up his bag, Tora looked around the trunk for a first aid kit. “Motherfucker,” he muttered to himself as he looked in the tire well, the mesh pockets along the back. No fuckin’ kit. _Goddammit, Quince_. How the hell did he not carry a first aid kit? Fuck’s sake, as the heir to the empire he should carry at least one in every fuckin’ vehicle. The bare fuckin’ minimum. The fuck would his father say. He’d have to have a fuckin’ word with Quincey about safety, shit. Could already hear the man groaning.

“Everything okay?” Poppy asked softly from beside his arm. He glanced over at her—her brown eyes so wide in the darkness, the dim lamps along the side of the building doing almost nothing to illuminate the lot. He reached out and stroked her cheek once before closing the trunk.

“Yeah, sweetheart. Was just hopin’ to avoid a needle,” he said, shrugging before he nodded toward the stairs. “She slipped her fingers through his as they walked, could see her head moving about as she took in the building in the darkness. “Looks like shit, but ya’ll be able to see it better in the mornin’,” he murmured when they’d gotten to the stairs, nodding back to the car so she’d remember to lock it.

“Oh?” she asked as the Lexus chirped. “So, I get to stay the night?” she raised an eyebrow as her lips pulled up into a small smile. Hopeful.

“ _Pfft_ , course, Bobby,” he said, releasing her hand and reaching up to pinch her cheek, “dunno if ya’ll want to, though.” Tora tried to focus on putting one foot in front of the other as they ascended the stairs, tried to turn his attention toward the gash as his thigh rubbed up against the fabric each time he raised his right leg, tried to focus on the feeling of Bobby’s warm fingers around his, the soft weight of Bull along his arm, the dig of his bag’s strap against his shoulder. But he could only think of what she’d say when he finally unlocked the door, dread creeping up his spine at the thought of her face when she saw where he lived. Had half a fuckin’ mind to turn back. Maybe if he fell down the stairs, she’d demand they go to her place. _Yeah, that could work_ , he thought, glancing behind them. And she wanted to stay the night here? Fuck, that’d mean sleeping on his fuckin’ mattress on the fuckin’ floor. Shit, he hadn’t thought this through at all. Didn’t even have a spare fuckin’ toothbrush for her. No food in the fridge. Had that bottle of wine, what a fuckin’ joke. “Bobby,” he croaked as they stepped up to his door.

“Do you have the keys,” she asked, “or are they on this one…” she held up Quincey’s key chain to examine it by the dim light of the bare bulb beside his door.

“Shit, Bobby,” he said, bringing his hand up to cover hers. His mouth hung open around the words he needed to say to her—needed to warn her exactly what she was about to see, what she was about to step foot into. A tiger’s den, barren. A place to rest in between hunts. A fuckin’ killer’s lair. “If ya wanna leave at any point—” he took a steadying breath, reaching into his pocket to dig out his keys—something to focus on, anything to focus on, “just—just lemme know, and I’ll take ya home. No question,” he said finally, sliding the key into the first lock and turning, then the second lock.

He waited, closing his eyes for a moment before pushing open the door for the first time since the middle of the week. Tora flicked the light on beside the door, and stepped aside, letting Poppy walk in first. The room was mostly bare—concrete walls tinged a green-gray under the ceiling light, the few windows of the room were high up, narrow against the ceiling, giving the room the feel of a cell. Tora toed off his shoes by the door, locking it behind him as he shrugged off the bag, letting it fall beside the console, his eyes on Poppy as she stood a couple paces from him, her head moving only slightly as she gazed at the room. His heart was fuckin’ pounding as he set the gum down on the console, made to set Bullony down beside the box, shifting a plastic bag out of the way as it crinkled. Couldn’t bring himself to let go of the plant. Not yet.

Suddenly Poppy dropped to the floor and Tora took a quick step forward before realizing what she was doing, her fingers making quick work of the straps around her ankles. “Bobby, ya don’t gotta…” he trailed off as she stood back up, kicking off her shoes before bending down to grab them by the straps in one hand and setting them beside his. Her bare feet against the floor. His floor. Shit, she was really here, shit was really happening. No one else even knew about this place except Quince. And it’s not like he made a habit of comin’ over—not like Tora invited him anyway. Tora swallowed as she turned to look at him, her eyes falling to something on the console that made her blush, her eyes going wide as she bit back a smile. Tora followed her gaze and couldn’t stop the groan that crashed up his throat—the fuckin’ bag of condoms—so fuckin’ many of ‘em. The thin plastic bag did little to hide the words _RIBBED FOR HER PLEASURE_.

“Bobby, s’not what it looks like,” he said, a plea in his words. _Fuck, fuck, fuck, ya stupid motherfuckin’—_

She smirked, “and what does it look like?”

Tora’s mouth hung open, unable to voice any of what he was thinking. The fact that he wasn’t trying to pressure her, hadn’t ever intended for her to see ‘em, shit, at least not all at fuckin’ once. Not a whole fuckin’ mountain of colorful boxes, like it was the only thing he thought about, the only thing he wanted. She meant so much more. Fuck, she was so much more than sex. Didn’t change the fact that he fuckin’ wanted her, but shit, _the chase_. Couldn’t have her thinkin’ that was the reason he wanted her. She laughed softly at his dumbfounded expression, turning from him to walk further into the room, her fingers running along the arm of the couch.

“I bought some, too,” she said, a smile on her voice as she shrugged out of her jacket. Tora’s breath caught in his throat and he put a hand out to touch the console table, steadying himself as he shifted his weight to his good leg, eyes dragging from her hair to the places where he could see through to her bare back. Hadn’t been able to touch her tonight yet. He started to take a step toward her but stopped himself at the thought that she still didn’t know. If she knew what he was, she wouldn’t want his hands on her ever again. He clenched his jaw, swallowing as she laid the jacket carefully on the arm of the couch before walking back toward him. He forced himself to keep his eyes on her face, could feel his gaze being pulled down, the strip of skin along the V of her neckline taunting him as she moved within arm’s reach. “Can I go down there?” she asked, nodding toward the hallway that led to the bedroom, the bathroom.

He inclined his head, exhaled slowly as she passed him. Couldn’t tell what the fuck she was thinkin’, but she hadn’t asked to leave, hadn’t run back down the stairs. Had removed her jacket, laid it over the couch. He followed a couple steps behind her, waiting as she peered into the bathroom before she turned to walk into the bedroom. She paused a step beyond the open door and he heard her take a deep breath, her head tilted down toward the mattress, the sheets crumpled where he hadn’t bothered to smooth them after the first time he’d tried sleeping in it. It looked fuckin’ bleak, the small window at the top of the room made the it look almost like a cage—somehow more so than the main room. She nodded her head to herself, turning toward the guitar, her gaze lingering on it in the corner of the room. Finally, after what seemed like hours, she turned to face him, her brows drawn together slightly. Not pity, though. A question. He waited, his thumb absently stroking the dinosaur pot as he leaned against the door frame—the smooth surface feel of the plant reassuring.

“You didn’t want me to see,” she said after a moment.

Tora tightened his jaw. “Told ya, Bobby. S’not a home.”

“Right,” she said, stepping closer to him, “but a lot of people don’t consider their apartments home. It looks like you live alone, travel a lot,” she shrugged slightly, her frown deepening. “Sure, I wouldn’t call it…” she searched for her words for a moment, “ _cozy_.” Tora huffed a laugh through his nose, _cozy_. Well, shit, she wasn’t wrong. “But it’s not anything to be ashamed about,” she said. She looked around again, worry stealing across her face as she swallowed, taking a deep breath and meeting his gaze again. “What aren’t you telling me?”

This was it. Right? This was the moment he’d dreaded, felt his heartrate quicken as his thumb stilled against the pot. He sucked his lip between his teeth, swallowed. Chewed the gum as he watched her and, once his tongue was tingling, he spoke. “Keep thinkin’ about what ya said. Called me a good egg,” Tora’s voice cracked on the last word and he took a breath before continuing, “a good guy.” He shook his head, holding her gaze as his eyebrows drew together. “S’not true, Bobby. Neither of ‘em. And this place,” he nodded his head toward the bedroom, turning to look over his shoulder at the couch, the kitchen. “This place, it’s just the surface. S’not a home cause I don’t have a life outside what I do. Never have—” _never can_. He choked on the fuckin’ words, the ones he knew he had to tell her. Couldn’t bring himself to speak them. Not yet. He swallowed, pulling the gum from the dip between his teeth and his cheek, working it between his molars again, his whole mouth tingling with nicotine. Pepper and mint.

She was watching him intently, eyes hadn’t left his face, her hands hanging by her sides as she listened to his every word, every subtle movement of his body. She knew there was more, he could tell, her eyes wide. Waiting. When he didn’t speak, he watched as her lips parted slowly around the question he’d known was coming, felt the ball of tension twist in his gut, his lungs shuddering, “and what is it that you do?”

She was breathing faster, her chest rising and falling noticeably as she watched him, her lips set in a hard line, pressed together as she waited again.

Tora forced himself to unclench his jaw, the gum adhering to his bottom molars with the force of his bite. His eyes stung, throat tightening around the words as he whispered, “I hurt people, Poppylan.” His voice cracked again on her name and he swallowed harshly, wanted desperately to tear his gaze from hers. Couldn’t. Absolutely fuckin’ couldn’t. Watched as her eyes welled, unblinking. Could see her jaw release, though she kept her lips tight together, nostrils flaring as she breathed through her nose. He made to step forward, to reassure her, but stopped himself short—couldn’t tell if the look on her face was fear. His stomach clenched painfully at the thought. Settled for words, hoped his words would do what his body couldn’t. “I’d never hurt ya, Poppy. Ever.”

She blinked a couple times at that, frowning slightly, her lips parting. When she didn’t speak, he sighed. Was time to take the fuckin’ plunge. Now or never. And never wasn’t a fuckin’ option anymore. “I’m an enforcer,” he said, taking a deep breath as he shoved his free hand in his pocket, balled into a fist, the other still clutching Bull tight to his chest. “Serve the big boss, his muscle,” he bit out. _His fuckin’ dog_. “When shit goes down…” he huffed, “I go in.” He took in her expression, trying to gauge if she could handle more. She nodded slowly, mouth quivering. “S’what he trained me for, since I was a kid. Haven’t known anythin’ else.” He swallowed, chewed the gum, rolled it over his tongue—wasn’t tingling as much anymore. Shit, was it wearin’ off? “Marked for life.” He took his hand from his pocket, scratching absently at the brand on his neck.

All of a sudden, she was moving, and Tora’s eyes widened as she stepped up to him, her hand reaching up to cover the back of his, “so, then this,” her fingers slipped into the spaces between his, a whisper against his neck as she touched the crest, “this is the symbol, right?” she breathed, her eyes meeting his as he frowned. “I saw it on one of the other men, too,” she said, “and you seem to hate it.” He inhaled sharply, how the fuck was she so perceptive? Picked up on more shit than most civilians. Hell, even most clan members.

He nodded against their hands, could feel the tendons in his neck rippling beneath his fingers.

“You threatened that man tonight. Claude.” She took a shaky breath, could see the tears in her eyes, welling. “Is that what you mean by—by hurting people?” Her voice fell to a whisper on the word _hurting_.

He could feel his face crumple as she peered up at him with wide eyes, swallowing hard against the thought that this might be the last time she ever touched him, ever wanted to be this close to him. He shifted his hand against hers, catching her fingers in a loose hold against his neck—needed to hold her hand one last time. “That was nothin’, Bobby,” he said, voice barely above a whisper, terrified of scaring her away, of losing her. This woman he loved.

She shook her head softly, her frown disbelieving. “Doesn’t seem like you,” she breathed.

She wasn’t getting it, at all. Fuck, Tora let his hand drop, extending Bull towards her until she reached out and took the plant from him. He strode past the chest of drawers against the wall to the closet in the corner, opening the door and pulling out one duffel bag, another, a third. A case at the back and the one behind that, sliding them out across the floor of the bedroom—an armory, or part of it. He still had some other weapons stashed in the other closet, the knife on the wall behind the toilet, the set of blades under the kitchen sink. And that wasn’t counting the shit he had in his fuckin’ car. His bloody fuckin’ car. Tora unzipped the duffels, revealing the contents—guns, ammunition, rope, his vest, the jumpsuits he wore to blend in, to cover his clothes. All his shady shit laid bare against the floor of the small, concrete bedroom, the gun in his waistband hard against his back. He unlocked the cases for his rifles, snapping them open as she gasped. Tora sighed rocking back onto his heels, elbows resting on his knees, his thigh spasming at the new position. Could feel the gash tearing open again in the places where the blood had managed to clot. “Been doin’ this since I was a kid, Bobby. Done some…” he took a steadying breath, swallowing the tightness in his throat, “some fucked—” his voice cracked again. _Shit, goddamn motherfucker, keep it together_. He took another breath through his nose which had started to run, “done some _unforgiveable_ shit. Talkin’ life in prison, Poppy.” He shook his head, biting the inside of his mouth as he surveyed the weapons, his tools.

She was silent for a moment and Tora could only hear the sounds of their ragged breathing. His heart in his throat, pounding. Waiting for her to walk out the door. He closed his eyes against the sting, tried visualizing his kid-self, needed to lock him away. Desperate to lock him the fuck away. Shook his head again when he couldn’t, Bobby’s sweet scent in the air, unfamiliar to this space, this room. This part of his life.

“Was it your boss,” her voice was low, icy.

Tora frowned, looking up at her. Poppy stood above him, closer than he’d realized, the plant cradled in her arms just below the swell of her chest. Her eyes were hard, jaw set as she slowly knelt down beside him, her hand coming to rest on his knee before she reached up to hold his chin, guiding his head to the side so she could see the crest on his neck. “The one who gave you those,” she said darkly, “you keep saying you were a kid.” She searched his eyes as his lips parted. “ _A lifetime commitment_ , right?” He stared at her as she repeated his own words back to him, not knowing what to say, not knowing where she was going. “But kids can’t consent.” She seemed upset, but almost like she was angry _for_ him?

“You’re upset,” he said, nodding.

Her eyes widened just before she frowned deeper, “of course I’m upset,” she said, raising her voice before shaking her head, almost as if to herself. “A kid,” she murmured, standing up and walking a couple steps away from him before turning back suddenly. “You were a _child_ ,” she said again, to him this time, staring him down. “Groomed to—to,” she shuddered slightly, as though the weight of it was just hitting her as Tora stood slowly trying not to look intimidating, keeping his head ducked, his hands visible, eyes on her face, “to _hurt_ people?” she gasped around a sob.

Tora inhaled sharply at the sound, his throat tightening, eyes stinging at the look on her face, her tears threatening to spill over. But he needed to be clear, leave absolutely no fuckin’ doubt in her mind about who he was. His voice came out hoarse, a harsh whisper that knifed the silence between them, her shoulders trembling with suppressed tears. “To kill.” His voice hung in the air, dead weight around them. “I kill people, Bobby.”

A sob bubbled up from her chest as the tears finally spilled from her eyes, rolling down her cheeks and into the corners of her lips as she brought a hand up to cover her open mouth, the other shaking around the dinosaur. Slowly, she sank to the floor until her dress puddled around her, her back heaving as she tried to hold in the cries that tore from her throat. Tora turned toward her, crumbling, his hands and knees hitting the floor as he crawled a couple paces toward her before forcing himself to stop. _I like how they feel when you touch me_. _Like this. Like this._ The thought that she wouldn’t ever want to touch him again, wouldn’t want to _be_ touched by him gutted him like a fish on the floor, his insides roiling as he choked on his own sob, accidentally swallowing the gum. Could feel his own tears hot on his face as his vision blurred. Blood inside his mouth as he bit his cheek with the force of his jaw clamping shut. He inhaled sharply, ragged, wiping the back of his wrist, his arm against his face as the fingers on his other hand clenched against the floor, nails white with the pressure. He closed his eyes tight, fuck, how had they gotten here? The floor, again. The evidence of his crimes, his violence spread about, terrible reminders of who the fuck he was, the monster he was. Could never be anything different. A killer. Fuckin’ murderer. Anything, anyone who’d ever been important to him, ripped away. Bobby, ripped away.

He heard Poppy moving on the floor and he bit back another sob as it wracked down his spine, couldn’t look, couldn’t watch her walk away. Worse than any of his nightmares. The woman he loved, choosing to leave. Couldn’t stand the thought of her hair, the back of her head, being the last thing he remembered her by, the last time he saw her. Instead, he’d have to live with the image of her eyes glassy with tears, her face crumpling around a sob—he deserved the pain of that memory. Fuckin’ deserved it.

Her fingers. Tora’s eyes flew open at her touch, her hand warm enveloping his knuckles as she pulled herself toward him, setting the plant down and opening her arms until she was holding him, her arms around his neck, pressing her chest to his face as she hugged him fiercely. It only took him a second to recover from his shock, his arms quickly reaching up to circle her back, pulling her firm against his torso as their bodies shook together, their breathing ragged. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he whispered wet against her skin, his cheek sliding with his tears along the top of her sternum as she rocked them back and forth, her fingers in his hair, stroking his scalp, her face resting on the top of his head. Minutes passed, he wasn’t sure how many as he listened to her breathing even out before she began murmuring his name over and over, grounding him as he focused on the sound of her voice in her chest, the vibrations in her throat, the weight of her arms on his shoulders, the way they pressed around his neck. Her body so soft against his, this woman he loved. After a moment, he pressed his lips to her chest in a chaste kiss, breathing her in deeply, letting her sweet scent fill him. She slowed their rocking until they were still, everything in the room so still, the overhead light watery, the only movements from their combined breathing, his inhales aligning with hers. He felt her lips on his head as she kissed him, her hands running down to the sides of his face as she lifted away from him, guiding him up to look at her.

Her eyes were red, black smears under her lids that ran down her cheeks in streams feathering out around her mouth. Tora brought one hand up from her back to wipe the delicate skin under her eye, his thumb brushing lightly over her fragile bone. He met her eyes a moment later, lips parting around her name, voice cracking again, “Poppylan…” She held his gaze, her eyes so wide, glassy as she stared back at him for a moment before she leaned forward, nose skimming against his as her hands drew down from his head, one cupping the back of his neck as the other settled on his shoulder, her fingers pressing into him as her lips found his. Tora breathed deep through his nose, letting his eyes close, allowing himself a moment to be swallowed by her, surrounded by her, this woman he loved. She tightened her hold on him and he broke away, biting his lower lip as his body screamed in protest—wanted nothin’ more than to fall into her, hold her, kiss her. Be consumed by her. But he needed to check on her—it was a lot, he knew it was a lot. Too fuckin’ much. “Poppy, I’m not a good guy,” he repeated, eyes roaming her face as he tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “No good for ya, sweetheart.” She held his gaze, frowning slightly at his words. “Need ya to know that, Poppy. It’s not some distant past—ya asked about the fancy car. Truth is mine’s covered in blood. Gettin’ cleaned.” He clenched his jaw before continuing. “S’not so easy to erase the things I’ve done, though, Poppy. That shit doesn’t fade. For life.” He stared at her hard, needing her to understand the weight of it. What being involved with him—in any capacity—what that meant.

Though her eyes had widened at the mention of the car, the blood, she hadn’t looked away. Finally, she nodded, “do you enjoy it? What you do?” She glanced at the open duffels, the rifles on display beside them. “Hurting people?”

He frowned, mouth falling open. “Never.”

She nodded, her eyes trailing slowly around his face before settling back on his. “I know, Tora.” He could feel his frown deepen. _I know?_ The fuck did that mean? “You dream about it, don’t you?” she asked softly, and he felt his expression fall slack. She hummed, eyes sad. So fuckin’ sad. Never wanted to make her sad again, fuck. “You keep saying you’re not a good guy like there are only good and bad people,” she murmured, swiping her thumb across his forehead once, up and over his eyebrow until he closed his eyes to her touch, like she was wiping his nightmares away. Trying to banish them from his mind. “I don’t think it’s so simple. The world’s not black and white,” she paused, and he listened to the sound of her breathing. “Some people say it’s shades of gray, but I think that’s still too simple. We live in color.” After a moment, she repeated, “It’s not black and white. And the people,” she rubbed her thumb up to his temple, “the people aren’t either.” Poppy pressed one of her palms to his chest, “that means you, too.” She waited until he opened his eyes, meeting her gaze as she stared at him intently. “Being a _good egg_ , a good person, it’s about trying to do the right thing, even when you fail, and I can’t believe it’s ever too late to start trying to do the right thing. You’re not beyond change if that’s what you want,” she said. Her eyes flicked back and forth between his as Tora swallowed, her words like little beams of light poking through the ceiling, his world. Fracturing the green-gray tinge of hopelessness, despair that had colored his life for so long. “What do _you_ want, Tora?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter GUTTED me. Like, holy shit. Crying over my keyboard at 1am. But I'm also super proud of it, like I think I love it. 
> 
> I wrote a little over 15,000 words and then decided to just split it in 2 parts cause there was still more I had to write until the originally-planned end of the chapter, and it would’ve meant not posting for a couple days. All this to say...I know the balance of angst v. fluff is woefully in the angst corner right now, but I will fix this (pinky lol)!! Thanks for sticking with me 🤗🙃 and thank you thank you for your sweet comments, they make me cry every time and squeal with joy when you theorize what’s going down 😍😍😍
> 
> S/O to Tako for her song recommendation: Forest Blakk’s “If You Love Her”
> 
> I’m on IG now @melarela1223 where I post about CP 😉
> 
> Ch. 30: I mean...we need a release. Am I right or am I right?


	30. This woman he loved.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tora answers Poppy’s question. Teeth and fire and tigers, oh my.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Your comments on the last chapter had me all up in my feelings, was a mess. An absolute mess, lmao. ❤️❤️❤️ I hope this one provides you with some release *winks/coughs* NSFW 
> 
> As always, characters belong to the real MVP Lilydusk, brilliant creator of Midnight Poppy Land. Support her on Patreon! https://www.patreon.com/lilydusk

**Chapter 30**

Tora swallowed, her words like little beams of light poking through the ceiling, his world. Fracturing the green-gray tinge of hopelessness, despair that had colored his life for so long. “What do _you_ want, Tora?”

He watched as her eyebrows drew together in question, hope. For a moment, he considered repeating what he’d already said. _A lifetime commitment_. But she knew that, he reminded himself. Fuck, she _knew_ that, had held him, her arms still around him, so soft, warm. Tora swallowed against the words intended to push her away. Wasn’t strong enough to push away this woman who was choosing to open herself up to him, knowing what he was. The fuckin’ monster that he was. _A good egg?_ Fuck, he glanced down at her thigh, the place beneath the dress where the fake strawberry tattoo had been. Looked back up, meeting her eyes. He leaned forward, hesitant but feeling the same pull towards her that’d been there since he first saw her in the next aisle over of the liquor store, eyes locked on her gaze, his nose pressing into her cheek as his lips met hers. Bobby, her mouth already parted on an inhale, open to him, breathing him in. Watched as her lashes fluttered shut, her body sinking into him. And then he was melting, his eyes closing as he pulled her tight against him. Melting, his tongue finding hers to the sounds of their breathing, desperate through their noses. Melting, fuck, he loved her. So goddamn much, how’d he fallen for her so fuckin’ fast? This strong hamster of a woman. His Bobby. Had never felt this way before, hadn’t known it was fuckin’ possible.

Tora shifted his legs, swinging them out in front of his body so that Bobby knelt between his thighs, her hands in his hair, running down his neck, catching in the back of his jacket, tugging until Tora pulled his hands from her waist. He shrugged the material from his shoulders as her hands returned to cup his face, pulling him back against her lips. He couldn’t believe this was happening, that Bobby was kissing him, undressing him, knowing who he was, what he did. Choosing him. The thought nearly overwhelmed him as he squeezed his eyes shut harder against the sting, his hands moving up and down her bare back, tracing her spine. So fuckin’ fragile and yet, fuck—she was maybe stronger than he was. How could someone so tiny be so strong, he found himself wondering yet again. He brought one hand around to sweep down her side, back up along the underside of her breast. She moaned into his mouth and Tora groaned, his hand palming her tit, no longer able to restrain himself, couldn’t hold back—she was fuckin’ choosin’ him. Had fuckin’ _chosen_ him. Had seen him, really fuckin’ seen him. Poppy rocked up against his torso at his touch, pressing herself hard against him, her hand grabbing his thigh.

Tora’s vision flashed in pain, his fingers grasping her wrist and pulling her from his leg, “Bobby,” he choked as she scrambled up off of him. 

“Oh my—Tora, I’m so sorry,” she cried, her hands fluttering around him. “Come on, let’s take care of that,” she said, softer, but she didn’t move, his fingers stilled around her wrist in a hold loose enough for her to slip through if she wanted. A moment later, when she still hadn’t shifted away from him, her eyes on his, he let his hand move down around hers, their fingers twining together as he listened to her breathe. He reached his other hand up, tucking a lock of her hair, damp with tears, back behind her ear, thumb drawing across her cheek again as she closed her eyes, leaning into his touch on an exhale. She turned her head then, pressing her lips to the heel of his palm and inhaling deeply. Finally, she turned back to look at him, nodding. “Ready?”

He smiled softly at her, this woman he loved. Fuck, so goddamn strong. “Yeah, Bobby,” he said, letting his lips pull further into his smile as he watched some of the light work its way back into her eyes before she glanced at his leg. “Come on,” she said, standing up, her fingers still locked around his, her other hand reaching down to circle his wrist as she bent back, making to pull him up. He couldn’t help but laugh, joy and relief rooting in his lungs, spreading through his chest. Though he felt lighter than he ever had before, there was no way she could pull him up any more than she already had. Fuck, she was strong, but not _that_ strong.

“ _Pfft,_ Bobby, thought we’ve been over this,” he said, on a groan as he pushed up off the floor, supporting his weight with his free hand and left leg, “I’d just end up pullin’ ya down on top of me,” he pulled his lip into a smirk, trying not to grimace in pain, hoping to distract her, the back of his throat still burning slightly from the raw intensity of the last few minutes, mixing with his desire for her as she’d bent over him, the happiness of her being here, her presence warming the concrete room. So fuckin’ confusing, he thought, his brows drawing together up his face. And the pain in his leg, fuck—couldn’t think straight. He swallowed, meeting her eyes, trying to convey the weight of what he felt for her—more than sex, but shit, he wanted her. Couldn’t deny it. Everything he felt just fuckin’ made him want her more. Needed to hold her, be consumed by her. Needed her to know. “Besides, wanna save that for later.”

She didn’t click her teeth or push back like she usually did. Didn’t even blush. Had she understood? And she still wanted him? Wanted to be touched by him? He raised his eyebrows at the heat in her gaze. Well, shit. Maybe the bag of fuckin’ condoms would come in handy after all. She grabbed his fingers in hers, leading him to the bathroom, her hand feeling along the wrong wall for the light as Tora leaned over her, reaching around to hit the switch on the other side. “Oh,” she said softly before stepping aside, “here. You go there,” she said, pointing in front of the toilet. Tora quickly flipped the seat down as she turned around. “You said there was a first aid kit?” she asked him, looking around the bathroom.

“In my bag by the door,” he said, removing the gun from his waist and setting it in the sink before unbuttoning his pants. “Shit,” he muttered to himself as she left the room, peeling the fabric from his leg. The gash was deeper than he’d thought, or maybe it’d just opened up more without the care it needed. Some of the blood that’d clotted had adhered to the material of his pants, ripping away as he pulled them down his legs.

Poppy gasped from the bathroom door, and Tora turned to look at her quickly, his eyes flashing to the gun in the sink—fuck, he’d been way too fuckin’ casual with it. She stood in the doorway clutching the first aid kit as she stared at the blood on Tora’s leg. His lips parted in surprise as he glanced back at the gun—had she not seen it? Poppy followed his gaze, sparing a second to look at the weapon before turning her attention back to his leg. “Tora,” she breathed, “how long has it been like that?”

He shrugged, a little dumbfounded by her reaction. The wound looked like hell, sure, but a lot of it was just dried blood—he’d really expected a reaction to the gun beside her—not like she made a habit of bein’ around ‘em. He looked back down at his leg as Poppy stepped closer to him—it’d been less than twenty-four hours, but he should’ve taken care of it at Quincey’s before he’d left for the fuckin’ party. _Ya stupid fuckin’ idiot_. He’d been too caught up in his desire to see her to take care of shit like he normally would. “S’fine, Bobby. Should be a wound wash bottle in there,” he said, nodding toward the kit in her hands as he peeled his sock off—crusted with the blood that’d run down his leg during the course of the night.

“Mm-mmm,” she shook her head, frowning as she looked through the kit, “nope, not here. We’ll need to use soap and water to clean it,” she said, peering around him into the shower.

_We_. Tora raised his eyebrows at what she was implying. “Oh, jeez,” she said, laughing as she caught sight of herself in the mirror, rubbing the heels of her palms under her eyes across the black streaks that’d dried over her cheeks before peering at him. “You could’ve told me,” she said, a smile playing at her lips as she blushed lightly.

“Shit, Bobby, don’t matter,” he said, reaching out and grabbing one of her wrists, “ya gonna hurt yaself, though, if ya keep rubbin’ like that.”

“Mmm,” she agreed, dropping her hands after one last swipe. Tora’s mouth fell open as she brought her hands to her lower back, turning ninety degrees and standing on her tiptoes to see what she was doing in the mirror. His mouth ran dry as he saw her scrabbling at a little zipper. “Shit, Bobby,” he said, reaching out and stilling her hands, his breathing hard as he dragged his eyes from the place right above her ass up the length of her spine to her face. “Been wantin’ to do that all night, sweetheart,” he murmured, pulling her toward him until she stood between his legs, her hands falling to his forearms as he held her hips. He swallowed, eyes running over the strip of skin between her tits, so close to his face, “wanna undress ya, Bobby,” he said, voice raw. Fuck, until a couple minutes ago, he hadn’t thought he’d ever get the chance to do this again, touch her, skin-to-fuckin’-skin. And she’d chosen him, chosen to stay. Even with his gun in the sink beside them. Fuck. “Turn around.”

Her eyes widened, “Tora, we need to clean your wound.”

“Bobby,” he bit his lower lip as he gazed up at her, watching as her lips pulled into a smirk, “I’ll let ya do whatever the fuck ya want to my leg. Just, later—please.” She eyed him for a moment, glancing down at his thigh before bringing her hands up to cup his face, pressing a kiss to his forehead as he closed his eyes.

“Soon?” she murmured.

“Soon,” he promised. And then she was turning, his hands skimming the circumference of her hips as she rotated between his legs, pulling her hair over her shoulders. His eyes grazed her back, her skin so smooth, her curves so fuckin’ inviting. He swallowed, his inhale ragged in the quiet of the bathroom. She looked down and breathed a soft laugh a moment later—Tora stilled his hands on her where he’d been rubbing slow circles against her hips, up to her waist. “What’s so funny, sweetheart,” he asked.

She glanced back at him over her shoulder, pointing at their feet—both of hers were bare, and Tora wore just one sock. The other balled up on the floor beside them. _Pfft_ , he huffed a laugh as she shook softly under his hands. Could feel the last of the heaviness lifting from his shoulders, Bobby so relaxed between his legs, the air in the room settling calm around them as they laughed quietly together. Fuck, he’d been so certain he’d lost her. Forever. Couldn’t believe the sight of his hands on her, his Bobby. He dipped his thumbs along the small of her back, tracing the outline of her dress against her bare skin as she suddenly stopped laughing. Felt a shiver run up her spine and her goosebumps under his hands. _I like how they feel when you touch me._ Tora smirked, moving his hands to the zipper as he leaned forward, pressing his lips to her skin and letting his tongue stroke the flesh of her lower back in an open-mouthed kiss before he moved his fingers, unfastening the dress, the sound of the metal teeth giving way in a slow zip. Fuckin’ precious, needed to savor this moment, his hands on her body, her warmth between his thighs. A slip of light he’d managed to grasp, how the fuck had they gotten here? He pulled away a moment later, his cock jumping against his briefs as the dress parted, revealing a thong. Tora couldn’t stop the sharp inhale through his nose at the sight of the thin strip of cotton dipping between her ass.

“Sweet _fuck_ , Bobby,” he murmured, lowering his head to kiss the top of her right cheek, sucking her skin between his teeth gently as she hummed softly.

“What?” she breathed, turning to peer at him over her shoulder, catching his eye, her lips parting at the heat in his gaze.

“Didn’t know ya wore this kind of undies,” he said, his finger tracing the waistband of the thong as he bit his lip, exhaling hard through his nose. “Sexy as _fuck_ , gonna give me fuckin’ heart attack.”

She breathed a laugh as his hands tightened on her hips, “wouldn’t want th— _oh,_ ” she broke off on an inhale as his teeth skimmed her skin again before she exhaled slowly, losing her train of thought. “No pantylines.”

He wrapped one of his hands around the soft curve of her stomach, pulling her backwards toward him as his other hand palmed her ass through the dress, watching the way her cheek swelled against the fabric with each of his movements. Didn’t know what the hell her answer meant, but fuck, he wasn’t complainin’. “Well shit, sounds good to me, sweetheart.” His cock twitched again as he groaned her name, bringing his hand down to find the hem of the dress, snaking his fingers up the back of her thigh to cup her bare ass, rubbing his thumb along her skin in circles as he breathed with his mouth open against her back. He moved his hand up between her thighs, and felt her bare foot step onto his as she shifted her stance apart slightly, granting him access. Tora bit his lip, breathing hard through his nose as his index finger pulled the cotton aside—a moan escaping his throat at how wet the material was against his skin before he slid his middle finger against her folds. “Holy fuck, sweetheart,” he murmured against her back, pressing an open-mouthed kiss to the curve of flesh that puckered around her thong, “so goddamn wet.”

“Mmm,” she moaned, pushing back against his finger, could feel her little toes curling against his foot, “did you expect…something different?” Her breaths came in pants, her mouth open as he circled her clit slowly, sucking the skin along the top of her ass between his teeth, tongue flicking beneath the cotton waistband of her thong again. He grinned against her skin as he used his knuckle to hold the crotch of the underwear away from her center, slipping his index along her folds beside his middle finger.

“Nah, Bobby,” he murmured, kissing her again, “just thought I’d have to work a little harder.”

“Should I…do that?” she asked, a smile on her voice, “make you work…harder?”

He groaned against her back at the innuendo, sweet fuck, he wanted her. Wanted to pull her back onto his lap and straight onto his cock—but that could wait. Fuck, he just wanted to feel her for a while. Hadn’t thought this would ever be possible again. Never in his wildest dreams had he let himself dare hope for this. Bobby in his bathroom, her dress unzipped, moaning his name as he fingered her, the open wound on his thigh a constant reminder of what he was, who he was, and she was still choosing to stay. To be here in this moment. With him. This woman he loved. Tora slipped his middle finger inside her, stilling for a moment as he panted against her back, could feel her squeezing around him, so hot and wet. So fuckin’ tight. He forgot everything for a couple seconds, losing himself in her body, the feel of her around him, her ass soft against his forearm, the skirt of the dress caught up around them. And then she wiggled against him, pressing back on his finger, rocking back and forth as he slicked just beside her clit.

She moaned again and Tora grinned, kissing her once more before pulling his hand from between her legs. She turned around, eyes widening as he drew his fingers across his tongue, breathing hard at the taste of her, fuck, he’d missed her. He stood slowly, his eyes on hers as he brought his hands up to her shoulders. “Need this off, Bobby,” he breathed, stroking the material of her dress where it looped around her neck, “don’t wanna rip it.”

She smirked at him, grabbing his hands and bringing them to the hem at her thighs, “just pull up, tiger.”

Tora’s nostrils flared at the nickname, so warm in her mouth. Like he was hers. _Her_ fuckin’ tiger. Not a weapon, a different kind of primal energy matched by the look of open desire on her face. He fuckin’ liked it—hell, he _really_ fuckin’ liked it. He ran his tongue along his teeth, carefully grasping the material, drawing it up her body, letting his knuckles trail against her skin as he traced his way up her curves, dragging the red material with him until it was over her head. He frowned in confusion at her chest—she was wearing…well, he didn’t know what the fuck it was. Something rubbery, a shade darker than her skin color, seemingly stuck to her tits. “Bobby…” he said slowly as she took the dress from him and turned away to hang it on the rack behind her. But he immediately forgot about the strange undergarment when he saw her ass in the thong, his hands running down the length of her body, until his thumbs traced her waist, the little dimples on either side of her spine just above her ass. “Shit, don’t move, Bobby,” he said, and she stilled.

“Tora? Are you okay? Is it your leg?” she asked, worry laced in her voice.

“Nah, but I will be—” he said around a smirk, “heart stopped for a second. Only cure is to get these off,” he breathed, his thumbs hooking in the thong as she laughed against his hands.

“How about we get you in the shower first,” she said as he heard a peeling sound. A moment later, she’d flung the rubber-looking thing beside her dress and had turned around in his hands. Tora’s mouth fell open at the sight of her. He’d been thinkin’ about her body a lot, but shit, his memory didn’t do her justice.

“ _Sweet fuck_ , Bobby,” he murmured as she reached up to unbutton his shirt while he brought his hands to her tits, rolling her nipples gently, her skin stamped pink around the outline of the thing she’d just taken off. She closed her eyes for a moment, humming as she pressed into his hands before she continued opening his shirt, finally pushing it from his shoulders.

“You know, you’re not really helping,” she said around a grin as she tried to tug the sleeves down his arms.

“Sorry, Bobby, hands are a little busy—very busy,” he corrected himself, lifting her tits with his palms, smirking at the way they filled his hands, “ _very_.”

She rolled her eyes, biting her lip between her teeth as she gave up on the shirt, letting it dangle around his elbows, instead moving her hands to his briefs as Tora’s breath caught in his throat. “A little excited?” she said, smirking. “Or _very_ ,” she emphasized the last word, her voice pitched low in an imitation of his own.

Tora’s eyebrows shot up, the fuckin’ _balls_. “Bobby,” he murmured as she hooked her fingers in his waistband, “did ya notice how wet ya are, sweetheart?” He brought a hand to her chin, leaning down close to her face, “I don’t think ya get to judge. And besides,” he brushed his lips against hers, “did ya expect somethin’ different, sweetheart?” She rose up on her tiptoes, her bare feet nudging his arches as she pressed her lips against his, pulling his briefs down, slipping her hand around his cock. Tora groaned against her mouth, his hand moving from her chin to the back of her neck, pulling her closer to him as she pumped him a couple of times. Fuck, she felt good—his head felt fuckin’ dizzy from her touch, his breathing falling into short gasps. He broke away from her mouth, pressing his lips to her forehead as she hummed, her hand stilling on him. “Gonna come before we make it to the shower, sweetheart,” he breathed.

“Oh? And what’s happening in the shower?” she asked, a smirk playing around her lips as she carefully pulled his briefs the rest of the way down so he could step out of them. “We need to clean that,” she said, her smile falling as she looked at his wound, eye-level where she crouched in front of him before she stood back up, one hand on his chest, her thumb stroking his sternum. Tora leaned around her, sighing softly, not wanting the moment to end, wanted to feel her again before he had to sew himself up. His fingers found the metal knob, twisting the water on before bending to peel his other sock from his foot.

“Come here,” he murmured, hands on her waist, guiding her to the edge of the tub where he sat down, bringing her between his legs and hooking his fingers in the waistband of her thong. He glanced up at her, watching her throat ripple as she swallowed, before dragging the cotton down her legs, his heart skipping a beat at the sight of her, couldn’t help but grin. Fuck, she was beautiful. “Hold onto me, Bobby,” he said, grabbing her hands and placing them on his shoulders. “Wanna taste ya again.” He smiled as her eyes widened in curiosity, waiting until her fingers pressed against his skin before he hooked his hand around her calf, encouraging her to lift her leg up onto his shoulder.

“Tora, what—” she began to ask, but broke off in a gasp as he palmed her ass, his forearm supporting the underside of her lifted thigh. He held her gaze as he sucked the fingers of his other hand between his lips, tongue swirling around them briefly before he moved his hand between her thighs. Watched as her eyes widened just before he slipped along her folds again, her fingers tightening on his skin, her leg twitching against his neck as her eyelids fluttered shut. She moaned his name as he found her clit, and Tora groaned, letting his forehead fall against the dip of her hip, breathing in her scent. He lowered his head a little further as he slipped first one then another finger inside her, curling before he moved his mouth to her folds, his tongue skimming over her clit. _Sweet fuck_ , she tasted better than he remembered. He hummed against her, smiling as Poppy moaned, her hand tightening on his shoulder, the other moving to the top of his head where her fingers tangled in his hair, her nails contracting on his scalp every time he hummed or moved his tongue to the side. With her standing, it wasn’t an easy angle, his neck pinched slightly from his hunched position, but he didn’t fuckin’ care, didn’t wanna stop, ever. “Oooh, Tora,” she moaned again as her thighs began to shake, his tongue flattening against her clit, pressing firm in a steady motion as he hummed. She began to pant as Tora moved the hand on her ass up along the dip of her back, wrapping around her ribs until he was rolling her nipple. Could feel her shaking, shaking, her thighs trembling around his face as she clutched his head tight to her body, a moment later, feeling her release around his fingers, her walls spasming around him as she came, his name on her lips as she panted through her orgasm. As she stilled against him, Tora pressed kisses to the dimpled skin of her thigh beside his face before putting her leg down gently, kissing her stomach where the sweat had pooled above her thatch of curls before turning to open the shower curtain fully beside him. He stood, bringing his hand to her jaw and angling her face up as he leaned down to kiss her, her tongue hot against his as she hummed on his lips.

He stepped back from her a moment later, extending a hand to help her into the shower before climbing in behind her. The water was warm—he’d turned it up so she wouldn’t be uncomfortable, couldn’t imagine that she’d enjoy a cold shower the way he normally took them. And he wanted to stay in here with her as long as she’d allow, the thin curtain, worn around the edges, shutting them off from the rest of the world. Just him and Bobby, their bodies slick with wet heat as she moved against him, turning around in his embrace to face him. She brought her hands to her eyes, her brow furrowing as she wiped at the black streaks until they’d washed away, blinking up at him a couple times as she smiled, her eyes a little bloodshot. “Did I get it all?” she asked, the water dripping from her hairline down her face as she stood under the spray of the showerhead.

Tora ran his thumbs along her cheekbones, cupping her face as he angled her head up, bending to press his lips to hers, soft, warm. He let his eyes close, pulling away from her every couple of presses to inhale through his mouth, the water on their faces making it difficult to breathe through his nose. He felt her hands on his waist, rubbing toward his back and then back around as her tongue pushed hot and firm against his. She broke away from him, pressing one more kiss to his lips before she turned in his arms, bending to grab the bottle of soap he kept along the inner ledge of the tub beside the knobs. Tora’s hands fell to her hips, thumbs smoothing over the dimples of her back as he watched her ass part, her lips swollen with desire and her orgasm, his cock bobbing in the air above her as the water sprayed over their bodies. When she stood back up with the bottle, Tora circled her with his arms, one hand cupping her breast as the other slid down her stomach, settling over her curls as she pressed back against him, his cock digging into her lower back. She tilted her head as he nosed against her neck, sucking the skin of her throat between his teeth as he rolled her nipple. “Bobby,” he murmured low against her skin, “wanna feel ya.”

“Mmm,” she hummed, breathing in a couple times as he held her before she moved her hands to open the bottle. “But you _are_ feeling me,” she said, a smile on her voice as her fingers tugged his hand up from between her hips, turning his palm and squeezing some of the soap into it, clearly not takin’ his shit. _Pfft_ , wasn’t so easily distracted now that she’d come—he’d have to remember that for the future.

He huffed, bringing his palms together in front of her and working up a lather as she squeezed some into her own hands, mimicking his movements before he slipped his palms along the front of her body, fingers lingering on every curve, each of her soft swells. “Ya know what I mean, Bobby,” he murmured, sliding his hand from her stomach to her chest, fingers slipping between her tits as he made his way up her throat, his hand angling her head up as he leaned down over her, his lips against her jaw, “wanna feel ya come again. Around me.” He kissed her cheek, working his way up toward her mouth as he listened to her pant at his touch, the warm water down her front, his right hand slipping back down from her chest between her legs. He moved her fingers along her folds, her toes bumping against his bare feet as she shifted to widen her stance, one of her hands reaching down to run the length of his forearm, tracing his tendons as he moved against her, while her other hand reached up and around his neck, pulling his face harder against hers.

The water ran down their cheeks, warm and hard as he slipped a finger inside her, groaning at the feel of her. Wanted to bend her over right here, press her up against the tile. Tora pulled away from her, having half a mind to do it, but glanced at the wall, thinking better of it—didn’t think he’d ever cleaned the shower let alone the fuckin’ wall. Couldn’t stand the thought of Bobby pressed against soap scum, the pink slimy shit that lined the grout. He moved his hands, letting her turn in his arms until she faced him, picking up the bottle again and squeezing some soap into her palms before she pressed the back of her hand, her knuckles against his chest, gesturing for him to step backwards out of the water. She shielded his leg from the spray as she bent slightly, moving her hands around the edge of the wound as Tora inhaled sharply—either from the shot of pain when her fingers skimmed the gash or from her head so close to his fuckin’ cock, couldn’t be sure. Could barely fuckin’ string two thoughts together. He shuddered an exhale, throwing a hand up to grip the curtain rod beside his head as he felt his quad spasm beneath her gentle touch, watched as she cupped her hands together, catching some water and pouring it down his thigh. So fuckin’ calm, gentle. Like she really fuckin’ cared. Her palms moving lower with the soap, washing the blood that had dried down his leg, crusting in his hair, the dips between the bones and tendons of his ankle. She circled the bottom of his leg with both her hands, pulling gently so that he’d lift up, guiding his leg below the knee into the spray of water, her hands helping the soap wash off, pink.

His eyes were drawn to the drain, watching as the blood disappeared, the water running clean like so many times before this. Except Bobby was here, a bright light caught up in his world of darkness—what would she say if she knew how he’d gotten knifed? How it’d ended for his attacker? The kid. He brought his palms to her shoulders, easing his fingers softly into the dips of her armpits, encouraging her to stand back up before reaching over her and cutting the water. She squeezed out her hair as he reached for the towel hanging on the rack. Shit, he realized a moment later that he hadn’t grabbed another one—knew he had at least a couple in one of his drawers. Wasn’t gonna make her use his dirty fuckin’ rag. “Hold up, sweetheart,” he said, stepping out of the tub gingerly and closing the curtain most of the way behind him.

“Tora?” she opened it back up, peering out from the steam.

“To keep the hot air in, sweetheart,” he explained, dabbing at the skin around his wound with the towel before tossing it around his shoulders, wiping at his arms, the wet hair at the base of his neck. “Be right back, gonna grab ya a clean towel.”

She nodded, a small smile pulling at her lips as he turned, picking his gun up from the sink on his way out of the bathroom. He stepped his way around the open bags of weapons, maneuvering to place the handgun on the chest of drawers, and squatting to rifle through the bottom one, pulling out a towel. He winced as the skin of his thigh pulled at the gash, fresh blood mixing with the water from the shower, running in small rivulets down around the bend in his knee. _Shit_ , he looked closer at it for a moment—now that it was clean again, he could see the damage caused by the last twenty-some hours without any kind of care. Not great, definitely needed to disinfect it, seal it. Help the sides of the wound mend back together. He stood carefully, toeing the drawer shut before he quickly zipped up the duffels, shuffling them back into the closet along with the long-range rifle cases. He glanced around, bending to pick up Bull and place him on the chest, then turned back out to head to the bathroom. When he opened the door, his breath caught in his chest—Poppy was standing in front of the sink, holding her hair above her head as her hands twisted it into a wet knot on top of her scalp, her elbows winging out around the sides of her face, her bare body fully on display as she turned to smile at him, water droplets clinging to her skin, still pink from the heat of the shower.

“Turned out to be pretty steamy out here, too,” she shrugged as she finished tying her hair around itself. Tora stepped toward her, running his hand from the top of her breast down along her side, tilting his head as he took in the sight of her and exhaling harshly through his nose.

“Fuck, Bobby, ya got that right.”

She rolled her eyes, but couldn’t keep the smirk off her face, nodding toward the toilet. “Sit, you’re bleeding again.” She took the towel from his hand, wrapping it around her torso and tucking one corner against her tit as Tora sat down, watching the way her chest pushed against the cloth. He’d been hard since the shower, but felt his cock stiffen again from where it’d relaxed slightly against his leg. Poppy bit her lip around a smirk, clearly fuckin’ seein’ what she was doin’.

He sucked his teeth, “no shame here, Bobby,” he said. “Ya know how I feel.”

“Oh?” she laughed softly, “and how do you feel?” she pulled out some gauze from the kit, squatting down beside him, keeping her knees together as she balanced on her toes.

Tora felt his lips part. _I love ya_. Fuck, he could say it now, right? She’d chosen him? Had a right to know, but maybe it was still too soon? He’d never felt this way before, didn’t know how soon was too soon, but—judgin’ by the shit he beta-read for Quince—two weeks wasn’t really that long at all. Did people know that quick? Didn’t wanna scare her off, but, fuck, she hadn’t run from his guns. From his admission of guilt. _I kill people, Bobby_. She’d let him put his hands on her, inside her body.

Poppy pressed the gauze to the open gash, drawing a breath softly as she winced, the blood seeping through the white cotton. Her brows pulled together as she looked up at him, seemingly unaware of his inner turmoil—to tell her or not? Fuck, he couldn’t let the first time he said the words be on his fuckin’ toilet. He planned to say ‘em a lot, but there’d only ever be one first time—had a feelin’ Bobby’d like it to be special, judgin’ by her taste in books. Tora sighed, reaching down to cup her jaw and bending forward to press his lips to hers. Tried to tell her with the soft weight of his mouth, a promise for later. Some other time. When he wasn’t fuckin’ naked with a hard-on sittin’ on his goddamn toilet, his thigh still split open from—

She pulled back, smiling up at him, a gleam in her eye. “If you don’t let me finish, we’re never going to be able to open up that massive bag you bought.”

Tora threw his head back, unable to contain his laugh. Fuck, she had some big-ass fuckin’ balls. Knew exactly how to fuckin’ play him. “Didn’t ya say ya bought some, too, Bobby?” he peered down at her as she poured some isopropyl alcohol onto a cotton pad.

“Yeah, but like three singular condoms,” she extended her neck as she shrugged, as if to say, _so what_. “Not the entire stock the store had on hand.”

He barked a laugh, rubbing a hand down as his face just as she pressed the pad to his thigh. His leg jumped, “shit!”

“Oh, Tora,” she winced again, lifting her hands into a gesture of surrender, the towel threatening to burst from around her tits without the help of her arms to hold it down. “I’m so sorry, should’ve warned you.”

“Shit, Bobby,” he frowned at the wound—at least she’d managed to stem the bleeding again, “good thing ya an editor and not a doctor. Bedside manner could use some work, sweetheart.” He smirked at her, glancing up as she huffed. “Here,” he gently took the cotton from her fingers as she bit her lip. “S’fine, Bobby. I’m good. Probably go faster if I do it, though,” he said before raising his eyebrows at her, “especially since ya so fuckin’ eager to see what the store had in stock.” He smirked as her eyes widened. “Pass me the kit, sweetheart,” he said, nodding toward the open bag as he clenched his jaw, steeling himself against the burn of the alcohol. When she’d handed him the first aid kit, he balanced it open on his leg, fingers sifting through the contents until he’d grasped the packet of curved needles, the black suturing thread. He leaned to his side, pouring a little bit of alcohol over his fingers and one of the needles before threading it. “Bobby,” he glanced up at her as he brought his other hand up to pinch the gash closed, “s’not pretty, sweetheart. Ya don’t gotta watch this. There’s some—” he swallowed sharply as he pierced his skin, exhaling through his nose and leaning closer to his thigh to see better around the shadow of his hand, “um, shirts and shit in the drawers. Round the corner,” he nodded toward the wall where the bedroom was.

She nodded, standing up and moving from the room as he concentrated on the task at hand. A minute later, she was back though, and his mouth fell open around a grin at seeing her in one of his shirts again. Fuck, he really liked that—her wearin’ his clothes. The shirt was thin, white, could see every curve of her body through it, her nipples dark, soft peaks pressing into the fabric as she breathed, watching him. He let his eyes fall to the hem of the shirt, midway down her thighs. “Am I making you nervous?” she asked, her eyes searching his out as he looked back up at her face.

“Nah, Bobby,” he said before breaking into a smirk, “except when ya cleanin’ cuts.”

She rolled her eyes, “I said I was sorry. Both times.” He laughed, looking back down at his thigh—nearly done. From the corner of his eyes, he saw her stick one bare foot over the threshold. “Do you mind if I watch?”

He glanced up at her in surprise. She wanted to fuckin’ watch? He gestured with his head for her to come over and she quickly moved across the room to sit on the edge of the tub, hugging her knees as she leaned closer. Tora smiled, could still smell her, but it was mixed with his soap, the scent of his shirt. His eyes flicked up to her face for a second, taking in her expression. Curiosity? “Gotta make sure it’s clean before ya do this, otherwise it’ll get infected,” he said, swallowing at the memory of the yellow house, the advice he’d given the girl as they’d parted ways, pointing at the dirt caked into her scraped knees. _Make sure to wash those out, otherwise they’ll get infected._

“How’d you learn?”

His lip pulled up into a sad smile. “Man who raised me, Joe,” he spoke the name softly. Could hear her quiet breaths in the small space of the bathroom, the faint sound of water running in another apartment, the thread through his skin as he pulled it taut. “A cop, tried to teach me—” he shook his head, reaching into the bag for the tiny scissors, searching for the words. How the fuck could he explain what Joe’d tried to instill in him? Shit. “Dunno, right and wrong, I guess.” He swallowed, carefully severing the thread and tossing the scissors back into the kit, reaching for the bottle of isopropyl alcohol. He exhaled a bitter laugh through his nose, “turned out real fuckin’ well.”

Fuck, she hadn’t fuckin’ asked for a sob story. Hadn’t asked about Joe or what the fuck he meant to him. _She asked ya_ how _, ya dumb fuck_. “Used to get—” he cleared his throat, “hurt. A lot.” Could feel the tension in his gut at the thought of Vincent, the cage. The blunt objects Martin’d passed through the bars on the window. She sure as shit didn’t need to know about any of that. “Joe showed me how to patch myself up. Said I’d need it eventually.” _When he wasn’t around_. And fuck, the day’d come earlier than either of them had ever expected. “Was fuckin’ right,” he said, as he finished pouring the alcohol along the needle over the sink, placing it back in the case and grabbing two pieces of gauze that he overlapped across the gash.

“So, you’ve been doing this a while?” her voice was soft, not probing. Encouraging maybe? He glanced up at her as he unrolled a strip of tape.

Tora nodded, “yeah, Bobby. Say, whaddaya think,” he pulled a smirk up across his face, pushing the memories from his mind and gesturing toward the bandage he’d fashioned from strips of tape and gauze, the sutures protected underneath, “I’d make a good doctor, yeah?”

He glanced at her as he zipped the kit up, placing it on the corner of the sink. “I mean, I’d say like seven out of ten. Definitely better than your driving,” she deadpanned.

Tora’s mouth fell open and he stood slowly, testing his weight on his leg. Was as good as it was gonna get—the area was sensitive, could feel each suture as he moved, but he’d had worse. Least this time he had Bobby. A practically _naked_ Bobby, he remembered, holding his hand out to her, admiring her in his loose shirt. “Careful, sweetheart…”

“I know, I know,” she sighed, exaggerating as she took his fingers in hers, standing up from the edge of the tub, “teeth and fire and tigers, oh my,” she laughed as his brows drew together, waiting for the punch, knew it was fuckin’ comin’. She rose up on her tiptoes slowly, stepping in between his legs as she drew her arms around his neck, his hands automatically drawn to her hips. Her tits pressed soft against his chest, the thin fabric of his shirt doing almost nothing to hide the feel of her. He frowned as her smile fell from her lips, her expression suddenly serious—what’d happened? He opened his mouth to ask her what was wrong when she spoke, “but I trust you, Tora.”

His throat tightened, eyes searching hers as she held his gaze. “Fuck,” he breathed, drawing his hands down and back over her hips as he scooped her up against him. She pressed her lips to his, her mouth opening to him, arms tight around his neck, clinging to him as she wrapped her legs around his waist. Could feel her folds hot and slick against his abdomen as his shirt rode up over her hips. His hands gripped the undersides of her thighs where they dipped along the swell of her bare ass, his lips insistent against hers, their tongues colliding as they breathed through their noses, their mouths. Couldn’t get enough of her, this woman he loved.

She dug her fingers into his shoulders, pulling him against her as Tora took a step, another. “Bobby, the light,” he breathed as she flung a hand out to the side, palm smacking the wall, laughing against his mouth as she plunged them into darkness, the light of the main room barely illuminating the hallway. But he closed his eyes again anyway, letting himself get lost in her smell, the feel of her body clutched against his as he walked them back out toward the console table until his thighs bumped against the edge. He didn’t have to tell her what he was doing—Poppy broke away from his face for a moment, hooking her arm around his neck as she leaned her torso back, her other arm stretching out to hit the light switch and grab the bag of condoms, not bothering to open it as she circled his shoulders again, her lips crashing against his. He laughed against her mouth as she nodded her head like she was letting him know that she’d gotten them—as though he hadn’t heard the loud fuckin’ plastic crinkle of the bag, couldn’t feel the sharp corners of the boxes bouncing between his shoulder blades. As though he hadn’t ached for her lips against his during the brief moment she’d dipped away from him.

He turned, striding to the bedroom and paused just inside the doorway, pulling his lips away from hers on a gasp, kissing his way down her jaw as he murmured, “lights on or off, Bobby.”

“Mmm,” she hummed and he laughed against the skin beneath her ear.

“Gotta choose fast, Bobby,” he panted. “Can’t wait much longer.”

“You choose,” she breathed, and Tora couldn’t stop the groan from rumbling in his chest at the idea that he’d get to see her—the light in the room was fuckin’ dim, but he’d get to fuckin’ see her. Her hand stroked up the back of his neck as he walked them toward the mattress—fuck, he’d never, not in his wildest dreams, imagined doin’ anything but sleepin’ on it—and even that’d turned out like shit. Slowly, Tora knelt, the sutures pulling beneath the gauze as he carefully placed her on the edge. He felt his eyes sting as his palms moved out from under her, smoothing across the sheet of the mattress that she must’ve made, tucked in with care when she’d come to grab a shirt. Fuck, he loved her. He felt her let go of the bag, the edges of the boxes tumbling down his back, contained by the thin plastic membrane, as he ran his hand, his forearm up her back, palm coming to rest at the base of her neck as he lowered her backwards, bending slowly until he was pressed against her, holding his weight off her body with his knee, his palm. His injured leg extended out behind him as he braced the floor with his foot. He drew his mouth to her throat, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses to her skin, her moans humming against his smile.

“Goddamn, sweetheart,” he breathed, gently sucking at her collarbone as her fingers fisted in his hair, her knees drawing up around him, one foot hooking the back of his thigh, “fuckin’ missed ya.”

She laughed, her tits moving against his chest as he groaned again, lowering his head to kiss one of her tits through his shirt, pulling his hand out from under her to palm the other one, could feel her nipple stiffening at his touch as she gasped his name. He moved to push up off of her, needed to get the fuckin’ shirt off, needed skin-to-skin, but his quad spasmed suddenly, the sutures pulling at his skin as he collapsed onto his side, rolling off her and tossing his head back against the mattress. “Shit, sweetheart, my fuckin’ leg.” A moment later, as though drawn to him by some invisible force, Poppy had turned over, her body pressing against his side for a second as her lips found his throat, her palm on his chest as she pulled herself up until she was splayed across his torso, working a trail of wet kisses back around his jaw.

Tora groaned, his hands running down the slope of her back, fingers catching on the thin material of the shirt until his palms found her ass, squeezing as she moaned into his mouth. He pulled up on the shirt, his hands connecting with her bare skin, so fuckin’ warm, pressing his palms back against her as he ran his right hand down her hamstring, hooking around the back of her knee. “Bobby,” he murmured, breaking from her kiss as he nosed his way to her ear, curling up into her. “Sit on me, sweetheart,” he breathed, sucking along her throat, feeling the vibrations of her hums along his teeth. His fingers tightened over the ligaments behind her knee as she swung her leg up and over him. Could feel her slick against his abdomen, her center so hot, couldn’t wait to be inside her. The hand on her leg moved to the hem of her shirt, scrabbling for the edge caught between their bodies until she sat up. He tugged it up, fingers finding her curls, still damp from the shower. He let his thumb drag along the dip of her hip before slipping lower, finding her clit. He watched as she shuddered, nipples stiff beneath the shirt, the loose fabric draping down, away from her body, too far away from her body, her mouth falling open at his touch. He watched her for a moment, his own lips parting as one of her hands fingered down his trail of hair, her ass pressing back against his cock where he could feel her folds slick along his length, hot, so fuckin’ wet already. Could hear himself panting—fuck, he wanted her. With his other hand, he circled one of her wrists, drawing it away from his stomach and placing it against the hem of the shirt. She opened her eyes and found his, her lips pulling up at the silent question written across his face, his plea. Fuck, he needed to see her, needed skin-to-skin, para-simpin’ shit. Needed it all. Had been too fuckin’ long, his Bobby. Needed his Bobby. _What do_ you _want, Tora?_

She bit her lower lip, using both of her hands to draw the shirt slowly up her torso. Tora bit back a groan, swallowing hard as he watched her reveal herself to him, the curve of her stomach, the swell of flesh along her sides, the soft, heavy bottoms of her tits. He grazed his hand up her side, thumb rubbing along her waist as she pulled the shirt over her head, letting it slip from the fingers of her left hand before she brought her hand back to his stomach, trailing up to his chest as she leaned down, pressing the length of her torso against his, her knees so warm against his sides. Tora moved his hand out from between them, bringing both his arms up to circle her back, one of his palms cupping her ass as he pressed sloppy kisses to her neck, the knee of his good leg bending, drawing up to press against the back of his hand around her ass. She sighed against him, could feel her body sink into him until there was no space between their chests, stomachs, his cock at her center as she rolled her hips against his. Could hear her slicking up and down as the head of his cock skimmed over her entrance, dizzy—he was so fuckin’ dizzy with the smell of her, the sound of her, the feel of her body on his. Her bare skin on his.

“Shit, Bobby,” he moaned, fingers squeezing her, encouraging her movements. His vision blanked as he felt the head of his cock dip inside of her for a moment, choking on an inhale as he felt her moan under his lips. He forced himself to still her movements, hands tight on her body as he clenched his jaw, exhaling hard through his nose. “B-Bobby—” her name stumbling from his lips, tongue thick against the ridges along the roof his mouth as he tried to swallow. “Bobby,” he panted her name again, as she moved her head to the side, up to his face, pressing light kisses to his temple, her thumb wiping the sweat around his hairline, nails grazing his scalp. “Ya do that again,” he exhaled as she kissed along his cheekbone, his eyelids fluttering shut, “Dunno if I’ll be able to stop.”

He felt her nod against his face, “sorry,” she murmured.

“M’not sorry ‘bout it, Bobby,” he huffed a laugh, feeling her body shake against his as his chest expanded and collapsed, “should talk ‘bout it, just—” he tightened his arms on her as she made to sit up, “nah, not now, just—” he inhaled, her scent filling him completely, “need to feel ya, Bobby. Wanna be inside ya again.”

He heard her laugh through her nose as she pressed up, her palms on either side of his head as she gazed down at him. The hair at the nape of her neck had escaped the damp knot on top of her head, tumbling down her back and the glow of the dim overhead light cast a white haze around her silhouette—his goddamn fuckin’ angel. He brought one hand up to brush his thumb along her cheek and smirked when she turned her head, catching his hand in her fingers and nipping at him lightly before opening his hand and kissing the center of his palm.

“We do have an _abundance_ of condoms thanks to you,” she bit her lower lip around a laugh as her legs shook around his hips. Tora rolled his eyes, letting his mouth fall open before smiling back up at her. Shit, he loved her fuckin’ teasin’—the giant bag at his foot only slightly embarrassing now. Now that he knew she wanted him the same way he wanted her, needed her. This woman he loved. Tora swallowed as she leaned backwards, picking up the bag and setting it on his chest as her fingers picked at the knot he’d tied.

He laughed, “shit, Bobby. Can’t wait,” he said, catching the thin plastic membrane between his fingers and tearing it open, the colorful boxes spilling onto his torso, down his sides. She couldn’t hold back her laugh at his eagerness but broke off on an inhale as her eyes met his. He licked his lower lip, sitting up slowly, one arm circling her back to hold her against him, her ass pressing firmly against his cock as she slid down slightly, the boxes falling off of him, tumbling onto the mattress on either side of where they sat. “Ya asked what I want,” he murmured, his free hand tracing up her side, his arm dipping between their bodies as his palm skimmed over her breast, her collarbone, finally settling along the side of her throat, thumb resting at the dip beneath her jawbone where he could feel her pulse racing. He leaned forward, holding her gaze, his lips brushing against hers as he spoke, “this.”

Tora pressed his lips to hers, as her fingers moved up his chest, tightening on his shoulders before she wrapped her arms around his neck, returning his kiss with hunger, need. So fuckin’ needy, both of them, desperate for each other. Falling into each other. She opened her mouth to him, her tongue hot against his as their inhales grew frantic. And then she was pushing against him, her forearms pressing against his shoulders, leaning so that her chest squeezed against his, her nipples hard on his skin, slipping against him with the sweat of their bodies. Tora let himself fall back slow against the mattress, the sheets she’d tucked for him, for them. Felt her arms leave his neck as she pushed up just slightly, only a breathe of space between them as she reached for the black box of condoms before her lips were back on his, her free hand in his hair, thumb stroking up from his forehead along his hairline. Shit, he loved her. Tried to tell her with his lips on hers, his hands stroking up and down the curve of her spine.

She kissed her way along his jaw until he could feel her breath hot against his ear. “I want you, too.” He groaned, her nickname bubbling from his lips over and over, couldn’t fuckin’ stop himself, her mouth on his throat, the underside of his jaw. Poppy lifted up, opening the box and reaching inside. She frowned slightly as she pulled out the condoms, folded together in a chain, the foil teeth connected. “What…” her voice trailed off as she turned them over in her hands.

Tora laughed softly, “just need one, Bobby,” he said, meeting her eyes. “For now.” Her lips parted and he heard her breath hitch as he reached out, his fingers over hers as he carefully separated one of the condoms from the end, handing it to her as she tossed the others aside and slid down his body. Tora rolled his head back, as his cock slid along her folds once more before it bobbed between them, smacking against his abs once as he felt her pinch the foil from his fingers. He glanced down at her, smiling at the peek of her tongue between her lips as she carefully opened it, pulling the latex circle out and reaching behind her to flick the gold packaging to the floor.

She turned back to him as he brought his hands to her thighs, thumbs stroking her skin. Listened, smiling, as she pinched the tip of the condom, gripping the base of his cock with her other hand as she murmured to herself, “and then you roll.” He swallowed thickly at the sight of her hands carefully unfurling the membrane down his length, her arms pressing her tits together as she moved before her hands returned to his stomach, dipping around his sides as she met his eyes. His hands tightened around her hips, encouraging her to move up. Poppy, raising up on her knees as he moved one hand between them, gripping the base of his cock, holding himself steady for her as her hands moved to his chest, pressing against the peonies, the koi, as she slowly lined herself up, slipping over his head a couple times before she sunk down on a gasp.

“Fuuuuuu—” Tora exhaled, unable to break away from her gaze as her inhale stilled in her throat, her mouth open in a silent gasp as she settled on his hips. After a moment, they both took a breath again—she hadn’t moved and he wasn’t ready yet, content to feel her wet heat like a sheath around his cock, so fuckin’ tight, like he was meant to be here, fuckin’ meant to be inside her, like his cock was made for her body—had never felt like this with anyone else. Knew that was fuckin’ stupid, but he couldn’t stop the thought. And then she was moving on him, uncertain as she rocked forward then back, but it didn’t fuckin’ matter, she felt fuckin’ amazin’, knew he’d missed her, but fuck. It was better than he’d remembered.

“Tora,” she murmured, her brows pulling together slightly as she rolled her hips again, his eyes fluttering closed briefly before focusing on her face. Her expression—worried?

“Bobby, ya good, sweetheart?” he ran one of his hands up to her waist, thumb brushing along her stomach as his other hand rubbed her hip.

“Yeah, just,” she huffed, blushing, “not sure…how…” she trailed off, her hips rolling forward again, stuttering against his as his cock slipped out from her.

He smiled softly, “s’alright, sweetheart, here,” he moved his hand between them as she lifted up, lining himself back up with her entrance before he nodded, exhaled as she sank down again. He brought his hand to her hip, his fingers gripping either side of her, guiding her movements, “like this.” A moment later, her fingers circled his wrists as she followed him, her movements jerky at first, not quite steady. Tora smirked at the look on her face—pure determination, wasn’t gonna give up so easy. Time slowed around them, only the sounds of their ragged breathing and the condom slipping inside her, against the quiet concrete walls of the room. Tora sighed, swallowing as she melted into a slow grind, her hips loosening against him, rocking with his hands until he slackened his grip around her. Let her take over, his eyes closing on the image of her riding him, her tits swinging, nipples so fuckin’ tight, hair falling from her bun.

Tora opened his eyes, needed to see her again, his hands running up and down her thighs as she blinked open, meeting his gaze, her throat rippling as she swallowed. “Poppylan,” he breathed, watching a blush color her neck when he said her name, “how’re ya so goddamn beautiful, sweetheart.” His voice was low, just a murmur between them as her lips parted, eyes wide, her hips stuttering again. He moved his hand from her hip, circling her right wrist and drawing her hand to her mound, his fingers encouraging hers to move against her body, could feel her knuckles rubbing his hair as her eyes blinked shut again, her mouth open, losing the rhythm of her hips against his.

He gripped her hips again, taking over, controlling the rock of her against him, the slide of his cock in and out of her passage, so fuckin’ tight, his eyes rolling back as he groaned, feeling as she squeezed around him. Fuck, what’d she just done? “Bobby,” he croaked as she panted, meeting his eyes, her face flushed as she squeezed again. “Fuck, Bobby, feels so fuckin’ good,” he groaned, “what’re ya—” she did it again, her lips pulling up into a smile as she bit her lip, her breathing hard through her nose, watching him come undone. “Fuuuuuu,” he exhaled as she rolled her hips on a squeeze, her walls so fuckin’ tight around him as she slid up then back down his length. Could feel the tension in his groin, his balls drawing up tight. “Bobby,” he panted, “shit, Bobby, gonna come,” he grunted, desperate to hang on just a little longer. A little fuckin’ longer, wanted to feel her come around him more than anythin’—just wanted to feel her. He felt her hand speed up at his words, her breath coming faster in earnest now, his name falling from her lips as her legs began to shake around him. Fuck, he wasn’t gonna make it, he thought, a second before he felt the cum shoot out into the condom, pulsing inside of her as she continued to rock against his length, her movements frantic on her clit as she moaned, the fingers of her other hand clenching and unclenching on his stomach as he watched the blush deepen on her chest, her skin a rosy pink, her nipples darkening as her walls began to spasm around him. Her mouth hung open, head angled up, her eyebrows knotted together, the shadow of a vein in her neck bulging lightly just before she exhaled, a shudder running up her back as she swallowed, panting heavy. Sweat glistening on her chest, one drop running between her tits. Her warm gaze met his, a tear in the outer corner of one of her eyes as she smiled at him.

“Come here,” he whispered, drawing his hands around her waist and guiding her to his chest, wrapping his arms around her.

“Mmmm,” she hummed against him, her damp hair loosed from the bun tickling his shoulder as she exhaled, breathing deep against his body. He slid his palms up and down her back, fingers grazing her ass before stroking back up to her shoulder blades. He felt her tilt her head, press a kiss to his cheekbone, could feel her lips pull into a smile against his skin. Fuck, he loved her. Wanted to stay in this moment forever—only thing that could make it better was if they were in her bed, surrounded by her plants, the warmth of her apartment, her home. _Home isn’t a place, it’s a feeling_. He inhaled her deeply, arms tightening around her body. _A feeling_. Fuck, was this that feeling? Only ever felt this way with her, like he could relax, like he meant something to someone. To her. Not a weapon, her guy, her tiger. His body softening.

He held her, wasn’t sure how long, felt her breath evening out as his cock slipped out of her, the latex wet, slimy against his balls. Didn’t want to move, but he knew they should. She’d made the bed, might as well use it. His heart caught in his throat as he thought of what the night would hold once he’d flipped the light. The one time he’d slept in the bed coming back to him, the nightmare, the worst one. The ring heavy on his finger. Tora shuddered against her, tapping her shoulder softly. “Hey, Bobby,” he whispered, smiled softly when she didn’t move. His tired hamster, passed out on top of him. He breathed in deep, palms running over her spine again as he considered moving her. Didn’t want to, but he’d wake up with a rash if he didn’t take the condom off. “Bobby,” he murmured again, “sweetheart.”

She hummed against him, rolling her head up his chest before inhaling on a yawn, her brows pulling together as she looked at him, “did I fall asleep?”

He laughed, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “Yeah, Bobby,” he nodded his head toward the pillow at the top of the bed, “why don’t ya get under the covers, gotta toss this,” he said, lifting his leg to her ass as the condom flopped against his thigh. She nodded, sitting up and climbing off him as she made her way to the head of the bed. Tora watched her ass as she crawled, the shadow of her lips, swollen and pink, could feel his cock twitching again. Fuck, they needed to sleep, and he was bone fuckin’ tired after a long goddamn week—maybe she’d be up for some more in the morning. He sat up, keeping his right leg extended as he lifted himself from the bed, quickly moving to the bathroom and feeling for the toilet paper, wadding up the condom and wiping himself down before heading back to the kitchen to toss it and making his way back to the bedroom. Couldn’t wait to be back beside her, holding her. The dark apartment felt so empty without her, barren, as he walked toward the lit doorway of the bedroom. She smiled up at him from under the covers as he met her warm gaze, her hand patting the bed beside her. Tora took a breath, flicking the light off and making his way across the room to her, could see the image of her imprinted on his vision, a purple silhouette of Bobby in his bed. Fuck, had never thought that’d happen, that any of this could happen. He eased himself down onto the mattress, pausing for a moment before he tucked his feet under the sheets, lying back onto the pillow. “Oi, Bobby,” he said, sitting up on his elbow and turning to grab the pillow, “want ya to use the pillow,” he said, shame burning in his stomach that he only had one, couldn’t offer her the same comforts of her apartment. Not like he couldn’t afford it, just didn’t use the fuckin’ bed.

“Mm-mmm,” she said, her hand pressing against his shoulder, attempting to push him back down. “Tora, you use it,” she said.

He didn’t move, though. No way was he lettin’ her sleep without a fuckin’ pillow, goddammit. “Bobby, just—”

She shushed him softly, “let me,” she asked. “Please?”

He huffed, yielding to her hand, about to argue with her, insist that she take it when he felt her head nestle along his bicep, his armpit. Her cheek warm against the side of his chest as she wrapped her arm around him, tucked her leg up and over his, lower than usual as she avoided his injury, hooking her foot between his calves. “This okay?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper in the darkness.

He turned his head slightly, his nose pressing into her hair, opening his mouth as he breathed her in. Bobby flooding his senses. This woman he loved. He nodded against her head, unable to speak, his throat tight as he felt her fingers rise up from his side, connecting with his forehead a moment later, wiping firmly. He smiled, squeezing his eyes shut at her touch, imagining that she really was banishing the nightmares, really was sweeping them from his mind. At least for the night. This night, his Bobby curled around him protectively.

Her voice drifted up to him a moment later as her hand returned to wrap around his side. “Are you doing anything tomorrow?” Tora smiled soft at the hope in her question. Fuck yeah, he was. Spendin’ the day with Bobby, that’s what he was doin’. Told her as much as she laughed. “Would you be up for a drive?” she asked.

He turned his head to look at her, her features only partially visible in the shadows as he ran his hand over her arm, his thumb rubbing circles on her skin. “What were ya thinkin’, sweetheart?”

She hummed against him at his touch, snuggling her head firm against his chest. “Well…” she dragged the syllable out, fingers tightening on his side as he waited, “there wasn’t any cake at the party,” she started as he laughed softly, remembering what she’d said to him right before they’d gotten on the elevator. “And there’s this place in Moonbright that—” she broke off, inhaling deep, “I know you don’t exactly love sugar, but—”

He laughed, running his hand up and down her arm again. “Sure, Bobby, let’s get ya some cake.” He could feel her smile against his skin before she pressed her lips to his chest.

“I think you’ll like it,” she murmured. Tora swallowed, listening to her breathing as it grew softer against his skin, deeper, sleep pulling her down against him until he felt her limbs relax, sinking atop his. He stared at the small window along the edge of the ceiling, the lights from outside casting a dim rectangle of light along the top of the room. Moonbright. He sighed softly, his arms tightening around her as he swallowed, making up his mind. He’d ask her tomorrow. Nothin’ to lose—the worst she could say was she didn’t remember him or that it hadn’t been her. Hell, maybe she didn’t know the house, had grown up in a different part of town. And it didn’t really matter, did it? She’d chosen him, Bobby, wrapped up in his arms. This woman he loved.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m on IG now @melarela1223 where I post WIPs and other random shit about Chasing Poppies 😉
> 
> Ch. 31: A trip to Moonbright…a big reveal???? Perhaps??? Are we there???? Almost????


	31. Bees do talk. Urge T

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tora and Poppy embark on a weekend journey to Moonbright.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So normally, the one-shots I write aren’t necessary to understand the main story arc of this fic. Technically, that’s still true, but the way the last one ends (chapter 5: Bottomless grief) will more than likely affect the way you read this chapter/chapters going forward. I’ll link it here in case it interests you: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28680405/chapters/72250914
> 
> That being said, this chapter was not supposed to be split in two parts, but it got so long that it had to be done. I'm sorry in advance 😬😬😬
> 
> NSFW
> 
> As always, characters belong to the real MVP Lilydusk, brilliant creator of Midnight Poppy Land. Support her on Patreon! https://www.patreon.com/lilydusk

**Chapter 31**

Tora blinked against the sunlight that leaked across his face from the narrow bedroom window tucked against the ceiling. He swallowed thickly, sleep coating his tongue as he rolled his head to the side, stretching his neck. As he moved, his nose met Poppy’s hair, so fuckin’ sweet. Couldn’t help but hum against her head which lay heavy on his bicep. Couldn’t feel his fingers in his right hand, everything below his elbow completely numb. Dead weight against the mattress. His other arm had fallen off the side of the bed in the night, the back of his hand resting against the cool floor, having slipped from his hold around her arm, which still rested along his chest, though her fingers had loosed from his side. Tora smiled, fuck, he loved waking up next to her. Could feel her leg over his, her foot still tucked firmly between his calves. Had grounded him through the night—dreamless. When was the last time he’d slept this well, besides the handful of nights he’d spent with her? _Ya could get used to this, couldn’t ya_ , he thought, raising his hand back to the bed, circling his fingers around the place just above her elbow.

But, fuck, he really had to piss. Come to think of it, he didn’t remember the last time he had. As much as he didn’t want to leave the bed, he also didn’t want the fuckin’ alternative. Shit, she’d never want to see him again. He squeezed her arm once, pressing a kiss to her head as he sat up on his right elbow, bringing his left hand up to hold her head steady, shifting her to the pillow as he removed his arm from under her. The blood immediately rushed up from his shoulder through his limb, his fingers painfully thick as he flexed his fist once, twice. Shit, as much as he loved the feel of her head on his arm, his chest, right before they fell asleep, he’d really need to get another pillow. He sat up slow, checking her face—still relaxed with sleep, her lips parting around a gentle snore, her hair tangled on her head, the bun a complete mess. He smirked. Fuck, she looked incredible, wanted to spend the whole goddamn day in bed with her. Use up all those fuckin’ condoms—or not, he cocked a brow as he remembered the way she’d felt around his head without the thin barrier. His cock, already stiff, twitched awake at the thought. She’d seemed to want it, too, at least in the heat of the fuckin’ moment. But that was something they should talk about first—not in the goddamn act when he couldn’t fuckin’ think. He’d been tested by the clan doctor periodically—knew he was clean, but there was always the risk of knockin’ her up. Tora swallowed, pushing the thought from his mind. As if she weren’t already in fuckin’ danger, that’s all they fuckin’ needed. He brushed a strand of her hair from her forehead, swiping her skin lightly, hoped she’d had good dreams or at least that she’d slept well, even without a fuckin’ pillow. _Moonbright_ , he remembered a moment later as he lifted her leg from his, grinning as her foot tightened around him briefly before he was able to extract himself from her hold. She wanted to go to Moonbright today for cake—Quincey’d mentioned somethin’ about a bakery she liked. Couldn’t deny the way his chest swelled at the thought that she wanted to share a part of her hometown with him, even if it was for cake, _pfft._

Tora uncovered his legs, taking care to tuck the sheet back around her shin, her leg like a furnace where it’d been wrapped around his, as he got up from the bed—fuck, he stumbled forward, catching himself on his fingers, both hands splayed against the floor, bracing his fall soundlessly. He looked back over his shoulder—she hadn’t moved, thank fuck. But goddamn, he looked down at his thigh worried at what he’d find, surprised to see the gauze was just slightly tinged pink. A good sign, he grimaced—least it wasn’t yellow, then he’d have to call the clan doctor, waste his whole weekend on stupid shit. A tiny fuckin’ penance to pay, he knew, for what he’d done that week. But, shit, he was a fuckin’ selfish bastard. Didn’t get much time off from the fuckin’ clan. Just wanted to spend his day with Bobby.

Carefully, he pulled himself up, keeping his weight off his right leg as he limped to the bathroom, flicking on the light and shutting the door behind him before he flipped the lid of the toilet. He leaned a hand on the wall as he relieved himself, shifting his weight to his left leg as he flexed his right foot, waking up the muscles in his leg as he peered down at the gauze again, deciding he should shower, clean it again. Couldn’t hurt. The first aid kit was still on the sink, so he could replace the bandage after he’d washed. Tora yawned, flushing the toilet, trying to ignore the ache in his head—he needed a fuckin’ smoke. He bit back a groan as he realized he’d need to settle for a goddamned piece of gum. Poppy’d mentioned somethin’ about a patch, he remembered, brushing his teeth, catching sight in the mirror of her red dress hanging on the wall. Maybe she could show him what she meant, he thought as he peeled the tape from his leg, the hairs on his thigh pulling, grayish-blue lines of adhesive marking the skin around the wound—shit. It looked tender, the skin shiny and slightly pink, some blood dried around the sutures from when he’d stretched too much the night before, a little swelling. Seemed like it might be infected, though just slightly—definitely not as bad as it could be, considering. He knew from experience. Tora reached over to the kit, pulling out one of the packs of antibiotics the clan doctor provided all members with, popping it open and pressing the pills against his tongue, swallowing as he turned to get in the shower, turning the knob to cold and stepping in under the spray as his muscles tensed in shock. He pulled the strawberry from his hair, letting the water soak through to his scalp before he turned, grabbing the soap and lathering himself, taking care around the stitches on his leg as his quad spasmed. Fuck’s sake, the kid had really shanked him good—it’s what he deserved, he thought, his mouth set in a hard line, turning again so the water could wash over his back, soothing the ache of his old injury—always worse after sleep.

When he was out of the shower, Tora quickly bandaged himself back up, the towel hanging around his shoulders as he zipped the kit, picking up the dirty gauze on his way back to the bedroom. He stopped in the doorway, a smile working its way over his face as he gazed at her shape under the sheets of the bed. In his absence, her body had curled up on itself, her arms gripping the pillow fiercely, nose buried in the material. Her long hair spilling from the bun over the edge of the mattress and onto the floor behind her. He stepped quietly over to her, setting the towel and gauze down on the chest of drawers beside his gun, and crouching beside the bed. He pulled up the covers, ducking under them quickly as she adjusted in her sleep. He hesitated a moment—maybe he shouldn’t touch her, his skin was still cold from the shower, hair wet on top of his head where he’d tied it up again with the strawberry. But before he could decide, she’d seemingly sensed his presence, her arm reaching back out from the pillow and curling around him, her foot meandering up and over his shin as he curled himself around her, sighing into her touch, her skin like fire on his as she drew him in. Fuckin’ intoxicating—couldn’t get enough of her, his Bobby.

“Mmm, morning,” she murmured against his chest, could feel her smile as she pressed a kiss to his skin. “Smell good,” she said, nuzzling her nose against him as he laughed.

“Oh, yeah, sweetheart?” he asked, “and what do I smell like?”

She hummed against him, “like Tora,” she said, “minus the smoke.”

“Descriptive of ya, Bobby,” he laughed. “Speakin’ of smokes,” he murmured, “the gum’s shit. Ya said somethin’ ‘bout a patch last night?” She nodded against his chest. “How ‘bout ya show me before we get ya cake. Not gonna last on the fuckin’ gum.”

She raised her head, her eyes meeting his on a smile as she nodded. Her face was creased from the pillow and she had sleep rubbed in her eyes. Fuckin’ beautiful. He leaned down, kissing her lips softly as she smiled before pulling away, “haven’t brushed my teeth,” she said.

“Bobby, the fuck makes ya think I give a shit,” he said, reaching up to tug her hand away from her mouth, but she shook her head, leaning back on a laugh. “Bobby, I been _real_ fuckin’ good not smokin’—how ‘bout a reward,” he smirked as she frowned, rolling her eyes. With the exception of the chain smoking yesterday afternoon, it was true. He _had_ been fuckin’ good.

“What about something else,” she asked after minute. Tora raised his eyebrows—was she sayin’ what he thought she was sayin’? _Hell yeah_ , he glanced at the boxes of condoms littered around the perimeter of the mattress, pushed hastily from the bed last night. He’d just need to be extra careful with his leg—didn’t think the stitches could handle much more stretchin’.

“Bobby…” he narrowed his eyes as she lowered her hand, pressing it against his chest until he’d let her push him onto his back. She swung a leg over his thigh, shifting down the bed and ducking her head under the covers as his eyes flew wide the fuck open. _Holy_ — “Bobby,” he breathed as he felt her lips against his lower abs. He let out a shaky exhale, his head falling back against the bed as his hands fisted in the sheet against the mattress, could feel her mouth open against the thin skin along the dip of his hip, her tongue pressing down as she kissed him. He breathed through his nose, his eyes focusing on the window at the edge of his vision—how the hell was this happening? Was this really fuckin’ happening? He nearly choked on his own breath as he felt her fingers feather up his inner thigh, encouraging him to spread wider, could feel the back of her hand against the underside of his balls as they began to draw up tight to his body. Fuck, she hadn’t even put her mouth around him yet, felt like he was gonna fuckin’ lose his goddamned mind, like a fuckin’ teenaged horndog gettin’ blown for the first fuckin’ time. Tora gulped as he felt her cup his balls, her breath hot on his cock—he glanced down at the silhouette of her head under the covers, reaching down to pull them back off her face just as she placed her mouth around him. Tora felt his eyes roll back in his head, his left foot slipping off the mattress, heel digging into the floor as she slowly started to move up and down his length, her tongue so hot and wet. “Fuuuuuck, Bobby,” he breathed, one hand fisting against his forehead as he glanced down at her, watching as she brought her other hand up to grip his base, her fingers twisting around him as she pumped slowly up and down, her fist meeting her lips before pushing back against his groin.

“Holy fuckin’ hell, sweet shit, goddamn,” he groaned as he felt her swirl her tongue around his head, her lips opening up in a smile around him before she closed them around his circumference, sucking lightly. “Aaa-aaah,” he panted, his core curling up reflexively at the sensation, his shoulders rising off the bed as he gazed down at her before he fell back onto his elbow, his other hand reaching down to push the hair back off her face. She looked up at him, held his gaze. Moaned. Tora’s breath left his lungs in one sudden exhale, his heart nearly fuckin’ stoppin’ as he took in the heat in her eyes, the vibration of her lips, her tongue around him shooting straight to his balls as he groaned her name. She smiled again, her head moving faster, the flat of her tongue pressing tight up and down his shaft as he fought the urge to fall backwards, wanted so badly to see her, wanted to see her as he fuckin’ came in her mouth. Fuck, he needed that, more than anythin’. “Bobby, fuck, Bob…” his mouth fell open, head falling back as his shoulders tensed, elbow still pressing firm into the mattress, his hand guiding her head up and down. “Gonna…come,” he panted quickly, his inhales coming through his nose as she looked up at him again, meeting his eyes as he felt the surge from his balls, wet heat up his shaft as she stilled her mouth around him, pulling off too soon, her eyes wide in shock as he pulsed a second time, a third up onto his thigh, her fist still gripping his base as she sat up, her other hand leaving his balls to hold her chin, wiping some of the cum where it dripped from her lips.

His brows drew together, trying to find his breath enough to tell her it was okay to spit, anywhere, she could spit anywhere, didn’t fuckin’ matter— _holy shit_ , she’d just _blown_ him—a moment later, his mouth falling open as he watched her swallow. “Sweet _fuck_ , Bobby,” he breathed, reaching for her as she crawled back up him, her bare body pressing against his torso as he cupped her jaw, kissing her deeply. His tongue on hers, fuckin’ salty as shit, but he didn’t care. Sexy as fuck, his Bobby. She pulled away from him a moment later.

“Food for thought anytime you’re thinking about picking up a cigarette,” she said, her eyes flicking around his face, a determined look in them.

He huffed a laugh through his nose, _pfft, food for thought_? Where’d she come up with this shit? “That my reward every time?” he smirked around a laugh as she snorted, “cause, shit, Bobby. Never touch a cigarette again.”

He brought a hand around to cup her ass, groaning at the feel of her against him, his eyes widening as his fingers brushed damp skin between her thighs. “Bobby,” he breathed, fuck, he could go again—just needed a minute but there was a lot he could with her in the meantime.

She bit her lip on a smile, “later,” she murmured just before pressing her lips to his once more. _Later? Well, shit_ , he thought, his fingers stilling on her. He like the sound of that. “I don’t have any clothes here,” she said, pulling away, “you mind if I shower?”

Tora kissed her once more, squeezing her ass. “Sure, Bobby, can stop by ya place.” She nodded her head, smiling before she slipped from his arms. Tora watched her walk away from him, admiring her from behind as she brought her hands up to the loose bun, her fingers making quick work of the knot as her hair tumbled down her back, turning the corner out of the room with one last look at him over her shoulder. Fuck, how’d he gotten so goddamn lucky? he thought as he collapsed back onto the mattress. Felt like he was fuckin’ floating. A goddamn cloud, _pfft_.

*

Tora rolled the gum inside his mouth, waiting for his tongue to tingle, his head aching as he put his gun back together, the rag on his lap grimy with dried blood he’d wiped from the parts of the weapon. Fuck, he really should’ve done it as soon as he’d gotten into the car, but shit, he sighed, thinking back to the way he’d fumbled even the fuckin’ cigarettes—there was no way he could’ve handled that. He heard Poppy cut the water in the bathroom then, and he looked toward the open bedroom door, quickly standing from the mattress where he’d been sitting and tucking the weapon into his waistband before shrugging on his hoodie. No need for her to see it again—not like she needed any more fuckin’ reminders about what kind of fuckin’ monster he was.

“Hey, Tora?” she called, could hear her voice through the thin wall.

“Yeah, Bobby,” he said, striding toward the door, spotting the towel she’d used last night hanging off the side of his drawers and smirking to himself as he reached over to grab it.

“Could you do me a favor?”

He laughed to himself, crossing his arms and leaning against the open doorway. “Favors, I love those.”

“ _Tch_ , Tora,” he could hear her frustrated sigh through the bathroom door.

He laughed, “shoot, sweetheart.”

She sighed again, “I left my towel in the bedroom, could you grab it for me?”

He smirked, “sure, Bobby. S’gonna cost ya, though.” He stepped to the door, knocking once, surprised when the it creaked open—she hadn’t fully closed it? Tora pushed it open slowly, his mouth closing, tongue running dry against the gum tucked beside his teeth as his eyes met hers. She was standing in the tub, the curtain flung open, her head tilted to the side, leaning on one hip with her arms crossed under her tits—her body dripping with water, her pale skin, pink and steaming. He swallowed, collecting himself and leaning against the door jamb, mirroring her body language as he crossed his arms across his chest, the towel in one of his hands. Actin’ natural, yeah. “Shit, Bob, s’like a fuckin’ sauna in here,” he said, thinking of the steamy building with fluffy towels Quincey dragged him to on his _spa days_.

She huffed, rolling her eyes. “So, what do you want, you thug?”

He smirked, pushing off the door and taking a step toward her, “wanna eat ya again, Bobby. Can’t get enough,” he murmured, stepping closer until his toes touched the edge of the tub. “Wanna make ya come.” He uncrossed his arms, bringing his hand to cup her chin, “again,” bent down slow, holding her gaze as her lips parted, “and again,” his thumb grazing along her jaw, fingers moving to cup the back of her neck, “and again.” He kissed her, feeling her sigh against him, her arms unfolding, hands coming up to circle his wrist. He let his eyes close for a moment—the steam so warm around them, their own little fuckin’ world—before he pulled away, holding the towel out to her. “Whaddaya say, Bobby?”

She took a deep breath, steadying herself as she took the towel from his hand, her voice higher than usual as she responded against a smile, “I think…that can be arranged.”

“Good, I’mma hold ya to it, sweetheart,” he smirked, standing back up and letting his eyes wander down her body for a second before backing away. “Fuckin’ angel.”

She blushed, shaking her head as she toweled off, but he saw a smile pull across her face as he turned away, walking back down to the bedroom where he opened his go-bag wide, shoving clean clothes into it. He glanced over by the wall where he’d kicked the pile of condom boxes beside the chest of drawers, trying to cover them with the scrap of the plastic bag he’d torn. Tora sighed, might as fuckin’ well. She’d already seen ‘em, and he didn’t really wanna have to buy more before they’d worked their way through his fuckin’ stockpile. Goddamn, still felt like dumbass. He picked up the gold ones that Bobby’d taken out of the black box, tossing them in the bag as his eyes found the yellow box, the words _RIBBED FOR HER PLEASURE_ taunting him. Yet the fuck again. “Fuck, fine,” he muttered, reaching down to grab them from the top of the pile as his fingers skimmed the purple box labeled Astroglide. _Pfft_ , Bobby was always fuckin’ wet, he thought, instead, opening the box of condoms up and withdrawing the yellow packets with his index and middle finger. Bright as fuck, he thought with a sigh, so were the gold ones. He ripped two of them off from the stack, tossing them into his bag and folding the rest back into the box. As he dropped it back onto the pile, his gaze lingered on the purple box again—not like he’d be usin’ it here, unless Bobby insisted on comin’ over more often. And if he was being honest, Tora’d rather be at her place, surrounded by her plants, her warmth. After another moment of hesitation, he quickly shoved the box of lube into the bag, zipping it shut after checking the mesh pocket for the secondary gun he’d put back in when Bobby’d taken her shower.

He glanced up at Bull as he pulled the strap over his head. Bobby’d said he could be left alone, didn’t need to be taken everywhere, but shit. He felt a twinge in his lungs at the thought of leaving the plant alone in his dark shithole of an apartment. It was stupid, he knew it was fuckin’ stupid, but once the thought had popped into his head he couldn’t stop thinkin’ about it: if plants could feel love like Bobby’d said, maybe they could feel each other, too? Would be pretty fuckin’ lonely in the concrete bedroom all by himself—Tora grimaced. Knew that was fuckin’ true from experience—at least at Bobby’s place there were other plants, too. He scooped the dinosaur up, the fingers of his right hand automatically coming up to stroke the leaves as he moved back out to the main room, his eyes falling on the bottle of wine on the console. Shit, might as well—not like he was gonna drink it. He opened the top of the bag, shoving the wine in and zipping it closed just as he heard the bathroom door open behind him. Bobby stepped out, her hair parted in two damp braids that framed her face, flushed from the heat of the bathroom. She’d put the dress back on and Tora couldn’t help it as his eyes fell from her face down between her tits where her skin still glistened from the shower.

“Oh, you ready to go?” she asked, holding the towel in her hands, twisting it slightly as he walked over to meet her, gingerly taking the white cloth from her with his free hand and tossing it over the top of the open bathroom door where it flopped with the water she’d wiped from her body.

“Whenever ya are, sweetheart,” he said, his thumb swiping against her cheek as he smiled at her.

“Cool,” she nodded, her hand touching his waist briefly before she stepped around him, “feel really weird wearing this in the day.” She gestured at the dress as she moved to the couch, quickly scooping up her coat and shrugging it on, pulling her braids out so they rested over her shoulders before fastening the front. Tora exhaled slowly, silently mourning the loss as she covered the outfit, her bare skin along the neckline. Fuck, he’d have to ask her to wear it again sometime. “I was thinking,” she said, walking back over to him and securing her little black bag across her chest, “I have a change of clothes at my office.” She glanced up at him as she adjusted her collar, clarifying, “from yesterday, before the party.” He nodded, rolling the gum across his tongue again as his mouth tingled. “My place is a little out of the way, it might just be easier for us to stop by Giant Goldfish,” she said, glancing around at the space, patting her coat pockets before looking back up at him and moving to put her shoes on beside the door. Tora stepped toward her, crouching, spreading his knees wide so that the stitches wouldn’t be pulled so tight.

“Here, lemme, sweetheart,” he murmured, grasping her ankle with one hand, his thumb holding her gently at the dip beside her joint as his other slid her foot into the shoe. They looked so fuckin’ painful, the toes coming into a point—he could still see the faint red lines on her feet from the night before where the edges had dug into her. Maybe she’d let him rub her feet later. Shit, maybe she’d let him rub—

“Tora,” she said, steadying herself lopsided on his shoulders, counterbalancing her leg in the air, her left hand grasping his trapezius while her right gripped his deltoid, “you don’t have to…”

He glanced up at her, watching as her lips parted at whatever she saw in his gaze—didn’t say anything, though. He smirked, turning his attention back to her foot, fingers deftly securing the strap through the buckle. “Tell me if it’s too tight, Bobby,” he murmured. She was quiet as he placed her foot back on the floor, moving his hands to her other ankle as she shifted her hold on his shoulders, one of her hands settling on his head where she ran her fingers through his hair until her knuckles hit the strawberry tie. He smiled at her touch, so fuckin’ gentle, reminded him of the way she stroked her plants, he thought, picking up Bull from where he’d set him down between his legs and standing up in front of her. He thumbed the tip of her nose, a smile pulling at his lips. _Pretty_.

“Thanks,” she said, angling her face back from his fingers as she bit her lip around a smile, “but if we’re going, I need the keys.” Tora’s hand dropped back to his side, his eyebrows shooting up as he took in the way she’d suddenly schooled her expression into something serious, her mouth a straight line, eyes wide.

“S’a lot of demands for a hamster,” he said, reaching for the box of gum on the console, tucking it into the side pocket of his bag. He patted his pockets, feeling his apartment keys, the key to the Lexus, his wallet and phone, before nodding back behind her toward the front door. He held the door open for her as she passed through, turning back around immediately as soon as she was through the door, Tora nearly colliding with her.

She looked down at Bull, who was tucked in the crook of his elbow, and unable to stop the grin that split across her face. She quickly regained her composure as Tora nudged her backwards, stepping fully out of the apartment and turning to secure the locks behind him. “You’re hurt,” she said, as though that fuckin’ settled it. “And we need to get there in one piece, tiger,” she added, smirking slightly. Another fuckin’ dig at his drivin’? Goddamn, the _balls_.

“ _Pfft,_ Bobby, s’not even like I’m drivin’ stick,” he laughed. “Ya know what I think,” he murmured, leaning down and rotating her so that his chest pressed against her shoulders, his lips brushing against her ear, “ya secretly _like_ my drivin’.” Tora smirked as her breathing hitched, her shoulders subconsciously rolling back into his touch. “Ya just don’t wanna admit it,” he said low, voice barely audible over the sound of a truck backing up a couple streets over, the birds cooing on the wire that lined the lot, the breeze whistling around the corner of the building.

“And if you’re right?” she asked quietly, holding her breath against him.

Tora’s mind blanked for a second, her switch from teasing to deep fuckin’ heat pulling at something inside him. He knew then he’d give her whatever the fuck she wanted. Her tiger. _Pfft_ , more like a fuckin’ housecat, shit. He wrapped his free arm around her, the key to the Lexus looped around his index finger as he pointed it for her, kissing her neck as she hummed against him, her fingers carefully taking the key from his hand. “I still get my reward later?” he asked low, almost a growl in his chest, fuck he wanted her—maybe she’d even be down for somethin’ in the car once they’d gotten out of the city. The road to Moonbright wasn’t exactly busy.

He felt her nod softly before she gasped, “oh, we should stop at the drugstore and get you started on the patch,” she said, turning her head to meet his gaze, smiling at the look on his face. “Come on,” she said, pulling him behind her down the stairs as he heard the chirp of the car, the lights flashing from the lot below.

Tora threw his shit in the trunk once they’d made it down to the car, squeezing Bull to his chest as he walked around to the passenger door, shaking his head slowly at Bobby as she grinned at him over the roof of the car. “What?” she asked, pulling her face into a wide-eyed expression, her eyebrows rising up toward her hairline, her little fuckin’ braids. Fuckin’ adorable. He rolled his eyes as he sighed—she knew exactly what the fuck she was doin’, and he fuckin’ loved it. Wished he could spend every day like this, and it wasn’t even close to noon. He watched as she adjusted the seat, the mirrors, taking her sweet time settling into the driver’s side like she’d already decided she’d be drivin’ them to Moonbright, too. She pulled out her phone from her pocket, before frowning slightly, putting it back.

“Put ya music on, Bobby,” he said, nodding toward the display on the console between them. “Wanna feel cozy,” he smirked as she met his gaze, rolling her eyes on a huff. He let his head fall back against the seat as he laughed. “Serious, sweetheart,” he nestled Bull in his lap, leaning his left elbow on the center console, extending his pinky to her, “I liked it.”

Her jaw shifted as she clamped her teeth against a grin, holding his stare until she finally pulled her phone from her pocket, fiddling with the buttons on the display as she connected it, her fingers carefully moving around her cracked screen as she pulled up a song he hadn’t heard her play before. He frowned in concentration as he listened, rolling his head on the seat to look back over at her, “s’new?”

She laughed, putting the car in reverse and backing up away from the building, “yeah, Tora. _S’new_ ,” she imitated his voice as she watched the camera display intently. “It’s sunny today, bright and light,” she explained, turning the wheel and putting the car in drive as she faced the exit to the lot, “different playlist for a different mood.” She nodded toward the phone, where he could see the words _oh happy days_ scrolling past the crack, before she glanced over at him, “you know?”

He smiled at her. He didn’t fuckin’ know. Hadn’t realized there was a difference between happy and cozy, but it didn’t matter—he’d listen to whatever she wanted. “Whatever ya say, Bobby.” Tora frowned slightly as they pulled out of the lot, Bobby maneuvering around the glass, the pothole, on her way out. She was right, he realized— _bright and light_ , the windows of the buildings on the street of his building refracting the sun, the mid-morning light. The shadows on one side of the road cast the cars along the curb in shades of gray. But no, that wasn’t quite right, he realized—not gray. Watery purples, blues. Color. Shit almost looked peaceful—a Saturday morning on the outskirts of the central part of the city, the warehouse district, except he didn’t feel the heaviness he usually did when near his apartment. Maybe it was the sun that illuminated the side of her face, warming the light chill of the car from having been parked in the shadows or maybe it was the song—Poppy’s voice soft, higher than the man’s as she sang a harmony above and around him, the words flowing in the space of the car, _I don’t really know her destination but I got a feeling I get-to-be your pa-a-ssenger. Sugar, let me be your pa-a-ssenger…she’s smoooooooth…_ Her shoulders rolling slightly to the beat, her head bobbing as she took a turn. Tora smiled, watching her from the corner of his eye as his thumb stroked Bull in his lap, his chest fuckin’ full. So fuckin’ warm. He lifted a hand to point toward the right as they approached an intersection, but she’d already flicked the turn signal, remembering the area even though it’d been dark when she’d driven here last. _Fuckin’ perceptive hamster_ , he smiled to himself.

Tora let his hand relax on the center console, rolling the gum over his tongue again, stale now, before leaning forward and grabbing one of Quincey’s napkins from the glove box, spitting it out and shoving it into his pocket. Shit, the fuckin’ little squares didn’t last long at all, and it hadn’t done much to dull the ache in his head. Hopefully the patch worked better, stronger. As he leaned back against the seat, his right hand moving to cup Bull against his lap, he felt Poppy’s fingers along the dips between his knuckles. He smirked, spreading his hand wide against the leather of the console, closing his eyes at the feel of her nails stroking between his fingers. Felt strange to be moving without looking, could feel the tires along the pavement, every crack they rolled over jostling his legs against the seat, the turns making him feel weightless as his arm pressed into Poppy’s. He opened his eyes as he felt her slowing, pulling up along the curb outside the Starbucks, leaning forward in the seat as she maneuvered the car behind the bumper. She hadn’t pulled her hand from his, though her fingers had stilled as she concentrated out the windshield, glancing at the right-hand mirror. “Mmkay,” she muttered before putting the car in park, squeezing his fingers once before removing the key from the ignition. “I’ll be right back,” she said as she picked up her phone, putting it in her pocket and turning to open the door, “then we can get your patch,” she said nodding back toward the drugstore diagonal across the intersection behind them. Before he could react, Poppy had leaned across the car, kissing him on the tip of his nose as his brows drew up in surprise, and then she was whirling from the car, looking up and down the street before darting across to her building. _Pfft, fuckin’ cute_.

Tora sat for a moment, watching as she disappeared through the glass door, the bright sunlight on the building flashing white at him, unable to see through to the elevator. Could feel Bull rocking against his hips as his heel started bouncing subconsciously, fuck—he needed a goddamn smoke. Glancing out the passenger window, his eyes fell on the branding along the coffee shop, the creepy fuckin’ mermaid. He shook his head, huffing to himself. Shit, maybe he could get Bobby somethin’ while he waited for her, needed to distract himself or he was gonna walk to the fuckin’ drugstore and buy a fuckin’ pack of cigarettes. Tora pulled himself from the car, gingerly stepping out on his right leg, pleasantly surprised when it didn’t twinge as bad as it had when he’d first woken up. _Antibiotics must be kickin’ in_. He set Bull down on the roof of the car as he closed the door behind him, pulling out his phone to check the time and rolling his eyes at the fuckin’ screen. Shit, he should text Ronzo about getting a new one. Bobby’s too. As he scooped the plant back up, he opened his chain with the techie man, sending off a text before he turned to enter the Starbucks. No line, thank fuck, he wasn’t sure if he could handle standing in place just fuckin’ waiting without Bobby to distract him from the ache in his head, the way his fingers twitched against the ceramic pot, his pulse pounding in his neck against each of his swallows.

“Morning,” the barista turned from her screen, doing a bit of a double-take when she looked up at him—not the way most women did, more like she recognized him. Maybe she’d been working the last time he’d been here with Bobby? He almost laughed to himself at the memory, shit it felt like it’d been years since he’d leapt over the stanchions, bookin’ it down the street after the tow truck, Bobby hot on his heels. “What can I get started for you?” she asked.

Tora frowned, realizing he had no idea what to get her as his eyes flicked above her head to the board that displayed a menu on the wall behind her. “Um…” he huffed an exhale, fingers gripping the dinosaur tightly, _the fuck would she like?_ “Ya got green tea?” he asked absently, eyes still roaming the board.

“We absolutely do,” she replied, one finger hitting the screen in front of her. “That be a tall, grande, or venti?” _Tall, grande…huh?_ _The fuck kind of sizes…_ She smirked at the look on his face, his lips slightly parted, downturned, eyebrows pulled together in bewilderment. “I know, makes no sense. Grande’s our most popular size—like a medium,” she explained, peering up at him and waiting for him to respond. Tora nodded once. _Sure. The fuck?_

He glanced back at the board as she asked if there was anything else he’d like, his eyes dropping to the case of pastries beside her. “Got anythin’ with chocolate in there?” he asked.

She nodded, pointing out one of the sweets on the top shelf. “We’ve got a chocolate croissant left—that work for you?”

 _Pfft, yeah, that’d do just fine_ , he thought, remembering the way Quincey’d raved about them a while back. Tora nodded, “Yeah, um. Need another drink, too.” He said, looking back up at the menu and frowning—still had no idea what the fuck to get her. “My girl. She likes sweet shit…” he trailed off before turning his gaze back to her.

The barista tilted her head, smiling as she nodded behind him toward Bobby’s building across the street. “For Poppy, right?”

He frowned slightly, his mouth open. How the fuck did she know he was talkin’ about Bobby? “Was pretty sure you were the guy she ran after last week mid-order,” she said. “She got a chai the other day—it’s a little sweet. Little spicy,” she said moving her head back and forth between her shoulders. Tora nodded, thought he’d heard Quincey mention the drink before—couldn’t be sure, though. “You know,” she said as he inserted his card into the reader, glancing back up at her as he shifted his hold on Bull, “it’s funny, one of our regulars was just telling me all about her, his new editor. Kept going on about his matchmaking skills…something about his brooding brother?” she raised her voice in question at the end. Tora felt his gaze harden as he drew a sharp inhale, clenching his jaw, trying desperately not to snap his card in the machine as his fingers tightened, shaking. _Fuckin’ Quince, that little shit. Blabbin’ his fuckin’ mouth, stirrin’ his fuckin’ pot_. “Wants to write his next book about them or something.” Tora could feel his eyes bulge before he could control his expression, licking his lips quickly before sucking them between his teeth.

“Really.”

She nodded, surveying his reaction, seemingly unfazed. Seemed about the fuck right—figured Quincey’d befriended her, loved to shoot the fuckin’ shit wherever he went. “Really. You guys are cute together,” she smiled knowingly, nodding at him to remove the card as the machine pinged. “And badass,” she went on, grabbing two cups from a stack beside her along with a sharpie. “The way she handled those guys the other day,” she shook her head to herself as Tora felt his heart drop through the fuckin’ floor, straight out his goddamn feet. “You’re a lucky guy. Name?”

He blinked slowly, forcing himself to remember how to breathe, his voice hoarse as he cleared his throat, managed to bite out, “Tora.” Hadn’t even remembered to give her an alias. Couldn’t even appreciate the fact that he _was_ fuckin’ lucky. “What guys,” he said as she wrote his name on one of the cups, Poppy’s on the other, checking off a box on the side before glancing up at him.

“Oh, just some men who were with our regular, you know, smoking outside,” she said, gesturing through the window. He tore his gaze from her face, looking back over his shoulder to Poppy’s building. _Fuck, fuck, fuck_ , he realized, his heart hammering at his throat. Must’ve been Claude and Scharch—they’d been assigned to Quincey while he was out of town. What the fuck had they said to her? _Done to her?_ Tora felt his chest clamp at the thought, his fingers tight around the plant as his jaw clicked. Is that where she’d seen them before? _Brown eyes._ “Drinks’ll be up in a minute.” Tora’s head snapped back around at the sound of the barista’s voice who had turned away from him to start on the rest of the order after leaving a brown paper bag in front of him, the pastry inside, a napkin folded across the top.

He shoved his wallet back into his pocket, quickly exchanging it for his phone and opening his messages with Quincey, thumbing a message and grunting as his fingers accidentally hit the wrong buttons numerous times.

@Tora: bees do talk. urge T

“Son of a bitch,” he muttered as the message sent—he really needed a new goddamn motherfuckin’ phone. He could feel his hands shaking as he typed again, goddamn nearly impossible to read the screen through all the smashed fuckin’ glass, his trembling fingers, _fuck_. Needed a goddamn smoke.

@Tora: calm me

Tora took a quick inhale, could feel the anger pulsing up his spine, his toes curling in his shoes, fingers gripping the device tightly as he watched the second fucked up message send. He let out a low exhale, scooping up the pastry bag and pocketing the device. He’d call Quincey later, no need to let himself get pissed off about it, he thought, hands shaking slightly, head pounding. Fuck, though. He wanted Martin’s fuckin’ boys far the fuck away from Poppy—was bad enough they’d been at the party, that they’d taken his place as Quincey’s detail for the better part of the week. Had they heard him talkin’ about fuckin’ _matchmaking_? About his brooding fuckin’ brother? Shit, and he’d let her go alone…

Tora whipped around, ready to leave, abandon the drinks, fuck ‘em, but stopped short when he saw her through the window, his lips parting in a sigh of relief as he watched her finish crossing the street, her coat thrown over her arm where he could see the red fabric of the dress tucked inside. She was in jeans and street shoes now, a high-necked sweater that her braids were still tucked into from when she’d pulled it over her head. Must’ve gotten dressed quickly, he thought, something tugging at the back of his throat. She skipped up onto the curb, meeting his gaze through the window, and he watched her smile fall as she took in his expression, quickly moving to the door and pushing against the handle, stumbling slightly as her forward momentum came to a sudden halt. He exhaled around a breathy laugh, shaky in his lungs as she rolled her eyes. Shit, he loved her—terrified him to think that Claude and Scharch had spoken to her, had been anywhere the fuck near her. And he hadn’t even fuckin’ known. Had no way of fuckin’ knowing she’d been in danger. Where the fuck had he been? In the warehouse? The meatpacking plant? At the old man’s house? Or maybe it’d been somewhere in between, traveling further from her as she’d needed him. Tora swallowed, nearly choking on his tongue. He could see Poppy huff to herself as she pulled the door open, striding over to stand in front of him, one of her hands coming up to circle his wrist where he clutched Bull to his torso.

“You okay,” she murmured, her thumb rubbing along his hand.

He hesitated for a second, searching her face. Must’ve been a reason she hadn’t told him—and the barista’d said she’d handled it. He’d ask her later—wasn’t gonna let the fuckin’ clan ruin their day together. “Yeah, Bob,” he said, pulling his face up into a smirk, “asked for the sweetest shit they got,” he nodded back toward the counter before handing her the bag with the pastry. She studied him for a moment before seemingly coming to a similar decision, taking the bag from him with a soft smile and following his gaze toward the barista who was placing two drinks down on the counter, waving at them once before turning away.

“You did not,” she smirked at him before pulling at his hand, drawing him up to the counter behind her as she picked up the cups, handing the one that had his name to him before sniffing at the small hole in the top of hers, steam curling up into the air beneath her nose. Poppy laughed, “smells a lot like chai. You sure you got the sweetest thing?” She peered into the bag, moving the napkin out of the way and biting back a smile.

He watched her for a moment, her lips tugged up, the skin around her eyes crinkling in delight. Fuck, he loved her. Definitely got the sweetest thing, shit. _Ya fuckin’ sucker_. He shifted Bull to his left elbow, his drink to his other hand, before gently tugging her hair out from beneath her sweater. Tora leaned down over her shoulder then, the end of one of her braids still pinched between his fingers as he pulled it away from her ear, murmuring, “sweet and spicy, Bobby.” Shit, it was too easy—he watched as her throat moved, swallowing before turning to look at him, taking a slow sip of the drink, humming her satisfaction.

“I guess you’d know, wouldn’t you.” He felt his eyes widen slightly as she stepped away from him, tearing off a piece of the pastry and placing it on her tongue as she looked back at him over her shoulder, headed toward the door. “Come on, let’s get that patch. You look a little grumpy.” He couldn’t help the warmth spreading in his chest as he followed her back out onto the bright street, the shadows on their side growing shorter as the sun rose steadily above the buildings.

She took another bite of the pastry as they walked to the corner, practically moaning as she chewed and swallowed. Tora inhaled sharply at the sound, his cock twitching in his jeans as he remembered the way she’d felt earlier that morning, her bare body between his legs, her tongue on his—“mmm, you got the chocolate kind,” she hummed, smiling up at him as she let her eyes close, a look of utter bliss across her face.

“ _Pfft_ , told ya, Bobby. Got ya the sweetest shit they had,” he shook his head as she held out a bite to him at the corner of the intersection, her eyes on his mouth as she waited patiently for him to open. He sighed, realizing she wasn’t gonna fuckin’ move until he’d put the thing in his mouth. Tora bent, holding her gaze as he took the pastry between his teeth, his lips skimming her fingers where some of the chocolate filling had smeared on her skin. Shit, eating it from her hands wasn’t half bad—didn’t mind the overly sweet flavor when it was coming from her bare skin. He let the bite melt against his tongue, remembering the way she’d moaned that night he’d licked the chocolate ice cream from her thigh. Fuck, he wouldn’t mind doin’ somethin’ like that again. She blushed at the heat in his gaze, quickly moving her hand back into the bag to rip off another piece for herself.

“Thought you hated it when I ate sugar for breakfast,” she said softly, chewing on a small bite.

“Just cause I don’t like it for me doesn’t mean ya can’t like it for yaself,” he smirked, running his tongue around his lips to catch any stray chocolate.

“Hmm,” she said softly, thinking that over. He looked over at her as they crossed the street, the bag crinkling in her hand as she balled it up before shoving it into the pocket of the coat draped over her arm, her fingers warm around his hand as she slipped it into his, sipping her drink, the sunlight hitting her braids in a way that made them look almost golden. A goddamn angel. He moved around her, releasing her hand briefly to open the door of the drugstore. “You saw. Back there, didn’t you,” she pressed her lips together against a smile as he grinned down at her.

“Hard not to notice a hamster walkin’ into a door. Again,” he smirked as she passed by him, rolling her eyes on a sigh. As soon as he was standing beside her, she slipped her fingers around his, pulling him down one of the middle aisles beneath a sign that read SMOKING KILLS in bright red letters. _Well shit, they don’t sugarcoat it, do they_ , he thought, picking up one of the brochures attached to the side of the display that had a picture of blackened lungs on the front. Is that what it was like inside his chest? Looked like rotted tissue—fitting for the kind of fucked up monster he was. It was a wonder he could even fuckin’ breathe. Shit. He glanced up at Poppy who was staring at the pamphlet in his hands before she looked up at him.

“Granny started with the twenty-one-milligram strength because she was a heavy smoker,” she murmured, turning her gaze to the shelves, her fingers grazing the wide boxes before settling on one of them, prying it from the plastic display as the cartons behind it ticked forward into the space it’d left behind. She turned it over in her hands, nodding, before holding it out to him to inspect.

“Dunno what I’m lookin’ at Bobby,” he said, frowning at the package and tilting his head back on his neck as he peered at it. He was just gonna take her word for whatever it was he should get. Not like he knew anything about this shit.

“What do you think, Bullony,” she leaned her head around Tora’s raised arm, peering at the plant before brushing her fingers over the leaves. Tora laughed as she looked up at him. “What?”

He opened his mouth to tease her about talkin’ to the plant, but…shit. The look in her eyes, so fuckin’ wide. Soft. Couldn’t do it. He sighed, looking down at the plant and turning the box so that the front faced his leaves. “Yeah, Bullshit. Whaddaya think, worth it?”

A second later, her hand curled around his bicep, drawing his attention to her face. “Definitely worth it,” she said, nodding before she looked back down the aisle, turning her head around, looking for something.

He raised his eyebrows, tracking her movements. “Need help, sweetheart? I can see everythin’ pretty easy.”

“Must be nice,” she quipped, “being a giant and all.”

He laughed, tugging one of her braids gently, “shit, Bobby, just tryin’ to help.” _Weird_ , he thought, as she blushed, shaking her head forcefully.

“I got it,” she said quickly, “meet you at the register?”

Well, shit—that was weirder. But he didn’t have time to think about it anymore before she quickly turned, walking away from him and towards an aisle near the wall, his brows slowly climbing up his forehead as she drew closer and closer to the large letters that read FAMILY PLANNING. Tora bit his tongue against a smirk, turning to walk toward the front of the store, excited by her eagerness. Shit, maybe she _would_ be down for some foolin’ around in the car. Couldn’t deny the idea of it turned him the fuck on. As he passed in front of the wound care shelves, he paused, eyes running up and down the products until he found the tiny bottles of liquid bandage, picking two of them up—might as well stock up. Better safe than sorry. Tora glanced back over at the aisle Bobby’d disappeared down, could see the top of her head as she scanned the shelves of pink and blue boxes. Didn’t wanna rush her. He turned around, strolling down the aisle and up another, taking a gulp of his tea as his eyes landed on the hair dye section—the bright boxes he used to buy with Goliath. He swallowed, moving to the blue dye, setting his drink down on the shelf and picking up the box. Packaging hadn’t changed at all—even all these years later. Wondered if the fucker still dyed his hair, maybe it was a different color now. Would he recognize him?

“Thought you said you didn’t do blue hair,” Poppy said from behind him. He choked on his snort as he placed the box back on the shelf— _you ever dye yours blue?_ Fuck, how’d he forgotten that? He’d had a pretty fuckin’ busy week, but shit, he still needed to find out about that. Did she know Goliath? At every turn, she’d ended up knowing members of the clan, whether it was Damien, Martin’s men, or even fuckin’ Ronzo. What were the odds she’d also met his shit-for-brains brother?

“I don’t,” he said, drawing a breath and picking up the tea carefully. As he opened his mouth to ask her about it, he caught sight of the box in her hand—bright pink. Smirking, he wondered what kind of condoms came in a box that color. “Say, Bobby,” he murmured to her as they made their way up to the register, “thought ya said ya already bought some.”

She frowned for a second in confusion before blushing vibrantly, stuttering as they reached the register, “oh, T-Tora, it’s n-n-not what y—”

“You two all set?” the clerk grinned at them and Tora’s mouth fell open slightly as he recognized her. Fuck—how was it the same fuckin’ chick from the other times. Did anyone else fuckin’ work here? And Bobby was buyin’ even more condoms? Goddamn. Wordlessly, Tora placed the nicotine patches and the two bottles on the counter, glancing over at Poppy and nudging her arm to put her box down. “I got it, Bobby, put it up,” he said, placing his drink and the plant down on the counter as he fished out his wallet, inserting his card while the woman bagged his items. “Bobby, come on,” he said, his brows drawing together when she didn’t move, her face somehow growing brighter, the blush creeping down her neck and beneath the collar of her sweater, her arm like a vice around her coat, fingers fisted in the material. She shook her head, not meeting his eyes as the clerk bit her lip, her eyes wide and focused on the counter. Tora sighed, nodding at the clerk to complete the transaction. Didn’t wanna fuckin’ embarrass Poppy, but shit, he’d been _inside_ her. Multiple fuckin’ times. For fuck’s sake, he’d shown her how to unroll the goddamn things. His cock twitched in his jeans thinking about the look of determination on her face each time she had—fuck. He put his card back in his wallet, shoving it in his pocket and reaching for the bag from the clerk.

A couple things happened all at once before Tora knew what the fuck was happening.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m on IG now @melarela1223 where I post WIPs, updates and other random shit about Chasing Poppies and my other MPL fic 🐅🐅🐅🐅🐅
> 
> Yooooo I'm so sorry for that cliff--I'm almost done with the second part of this chapter. So, shouldn't be dangling too long (sorry sorry sorry)
> 
> Ch. 32: The journey to Moonbright continues...


	32. Atlas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tora and Poppy make the drive to Moonbright on a bright Saturday morning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, hello, welcome! This is your conductor Mela speaking, all aboard the train to Fluff City. Please keep hands and feet inside at all times, stand clear of the doors, and mind the gap. Don’t want anyone falling out—its a long way down to Angst Town. We’ll be departing in three-two-
> 
> As always, characters belong to the real MVP Lilydusk, brilliant creator of Midnight Poppy Land. Support her on Patreon! https://www.patreon.com/lilydusk
> 
> (Side note: CP one-shots here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28680405/chapters/70312056)

**Chapter 32**

A couple things happened all at once before Tora knew what the fuck was happening.

The clerk began to ask something about a chair just as Poppy quickly turned to him, tossing the pink box down on the counter and jumping up on her tiptoes to pull the hood of his sweatshirt up and over his head. “Shit, Bobby, what the fu—” His open hand, which had been reaching for the tea, smacked against the cup, spilling the hot liquid across the counter as Poppy squeaked “sorry!” He felt her body hit his torso and he stumbled backwards, bracing himself as she lunged for the plant on the counter, quickly lifting it from the hot puddle that had raced toward the pot. Tora quickly pulled the hood from his head, eyes frantic as he found hers—took in her beet red face, her heavy breathing, her coat on the floor, the red dress twisted up in it looking very much like a skimpy piece of lingerie. The clerk stood behind the counter with her mouth wide open, her look of surprise only matched by Tora’s. “What in the everlovin’—” Poppy closed the space between them in two steps, pushing Bull into his hand as she brought her other to his mouth, immediately cutting off the string of curses that had been about to fall from his tongue.

From the corner of his eye, Tora noticed the clerk turning slowly, grabbing a roll of paper towels and sopping up the liquid on the counter. “I’m so sorry,” Poppy whispered, “I just—” she took a breath, her eyes flicking back and forth between his, her eyebrows drawn together in worry. “Can you not look?” she asked softly.

Tora felt the frown slip from his face. Shit, was it that important? Well, fuck, she could’ve just said so. He’d thought they’d been playin’ around, teasin’. “Sure, Bobby.” He took a couple steps back from her, leaning against the counter where it extended toward the entrance to the store. He ducked his head, listening as the clerk scanned the item, offering a bag which Poppy accepted. She stooped quickly to pick her coat and dress up from the floor, blushing intensely when her fingers grabbed the red material. He caught her eye as she stood back up, nodding toward him to let him know he could come back over—the bag had been knotted, looked like she might’ve even doubled-up on the plastic. Tora found himself frowning slightly—what the fuck was so embarrassing that she’d jumped him in public? He’d thought they were sharin’ shit with each other, but maybe she wasn’t quite ready for that? His fingers stroked the side of the pot as he watched her struggle with the little black bag, trying to dig out her wallet.

“Here, Bobby. I can—” Tora’s eyes widened, and he sucked in a breath sharply as she finally wrestled the wallet free, three condoms shooting across the counter with the force of her fist pulling free from the bag. They all held their breath for a moment, eyes on the gold packets before the clerk moved to slide them back across the counter toward Poppy, who—after exhaling a shallow breath around something like a whimper—seemed to come back to herself and quickly scooped them up before the clerk could touch them. Tora scratched the back of his neck, biting his tongue against a laugh until he tasted blood. _Shit, don’t ya dare fuckin’ laugh, ya goddamn fuckin’_ —

“Would you like a receipt?” The clerk’s eyes were wide, staring at a place near the back of the store just over Poppy’s head, sucking her lips between her teeth as she raised her eyebrows.

Poppy shook her head slowly a couple times before picking up the bag and turning toward Tora, her face still bright red, her eyes wide as she clenched her jaw. “Thank you,” she squeaked out over her shoulder as she carefully wrapped her arm around his elbow, clutching his forearm and steering him away from the counter and toward the door, pausing as he opened it for them before they stepped back out onto the street. They stood at the intersection for a moment, waiting for the light to change—he could feel her shaking softly. Shit, was she cryin’? He looked down at her and caught her eye, and that seemed to do it—her face split into a wide smile as she threw her head back, snorting loudly. “Oh my god, Tora, I can never go back there again,” she wheezed as he felt himself double over, the laugh he’d been holding back tearing up his throat. A couple of people who’d been standing at the corner, quickly looked both ways, deciding to jaywalk as they jogged across the street away from Poppy and Tora as the two clutched at each other, doubled over. He didn’t fuckin’ care, truly couldn’t give a shit about what anyone else thought in that moment.

“Holy shit, Bobby,” he laughed a moment later as his breath came back to him, still gasping slightly as he felt her hand slip down his arm and between his fingers. “Fuck,” he said, wiping his eye on his shoulder as the light finally turned, Poppy pulling him across the street, the smiles still pulling at their mouths, “haven’t laughed like that in…” he trailed off, realizing the times he could remember all involved this hamster of a woman. His Bobby. Fuck, he loved her so goddamn much. Maybe he should tell her.

She smiled, her face mostly returning to its normal complexion, her cheeks still rosy where her lips pulled up. “Yeah, me, too,” she said, fishing out the key to the Lexus from her pocket and unlocking it as they approached. He grinned wider at her response, a warm feeling rooting in his chest at her words. He’d known he could make her laugh, but to hear her admit it, to hear her say that she felt the same joy in his presence as he did in hers? Fuck, he felt like he was flying.

“Why don’t ya let me drive, sweetheart,” he said, extending his hand for the keys as she shook her head, still smiling.

“Nope.” She walked over to the driver’s side door, smirking at him over the roof as she opened it and ducked down into the car. He shook his head on a soft laugh through his nose before getting into the passenger seat. Poppy turned the key in the ignition, turning the heat on in the car and lowering the volume of the song that had begun playing automatically, tucking the bag she’d been carrying with the pink box on the floor right in front of her seat. Tora frowned slightly—shit, she really must not want him to see whatever the fuck she’d bought. She took a sip of her chai, holding it between her two hands and humming before she nodded toward the bag in Tora’s lap beside the plant. “We should get your patch on.” Tora sighed, hoping that whatever was in the box helped more than the gum.

He tore the cardboard flap open and peered inside at the little square packets. _Pfft_ , “Bobby, ya sure these aren’t condoms?” he glanced over at her on a smirk as she rolled her eyes, leaning across the console to push her hand into the box as Tora squeezed the sides, widening the narrow opening so she wouldn’t scrape the back of her hand.

“Think you bought enough for the rest of the year,” she quipped, withdrawing one of the silver packets and sitting back in her seat to peel it open. Tora felt the breath catch in his lungs— _the year_. _The rest of the year?_ Shit, the condoms definitely wouldn’t last even a couple weeks so long as she kept letting him touch her, but he couldn’t help his lip pulling up at how casual it’d been for her to mention the future like that. Had she imagined it, too? As she pulled a beige square from the packet, Tora felt himself frowning. Shit, he’d never been able to count on even tomorrow, let alone months from his present. He didn’t know what the rest of the damn week would be like. There was no way he could offer her the kind of life she deserved.

“Okay,” she turned to him, unsticking the square from a transparent piece of plastic. “Oh, shoot,” she glanced up at him, “sorry, where do you want it—forgot to ask.” 

He raised his eyebrows, “shit, Bob, I dunno. Ya tell me,” he scratched the back of his neck as his other hand tightened on Bull, holding him firm to his lap. He glanced in the rearview mirror at the drugstore—it’d be easier just to go back and buy a pack of smokes. Could feel his fingers twitching at the thought, his mouth dry—wished he still had that fuckin’ tea.

“Well, it needs to be somewhere between your neck and your waist,” she said, her eyes dragging up and down his torso before settling on the crest at his neck. She looked up at him, meeting his gaze. He nodded, knowing what she was asking—didn’t have to say it. _You seem to hate it._ Fuck, so goddamn perceptive.

“He leaned his head toward his right shoulder, resting his left elbow on the console, baring his neck to her as she leaned close, twisting in her seat, pulling one knee up onto the leather so she could balance herself as she carefully held up the patch by one corner, her other hand gently brushing stray hairs back off his shoulder. She bit her lip, the breath from her nose warm on his cheek as she got closer. He watched her from the corner of his eye, his left hand leaving the plant to rest on her waist as she placed the square on his neck. The fabric of her sweater, so soft under his hand as he stroked his thumb against her side. The patch under her fingers felt like a bandage, a piece of second skin as she adhered it to him, not for the first time, he realized. The moment from the steps in the city, surrounded by plants, just minutes after their first kiss. Her warmth washing over him, her fingers so fuckin’ gentle as she patched him up. _You have band-aids in that kit, tiger?_ He watched as she frowned in concentration, pressing from the center out to the corners like she was trying to squeeze out all the air bubbles.

“Ya got it, Bobby?”

She glanced at his eye, smirking lightly. “How does it feel?”

He cocked a brow at her, still not moving as she returned her gaze to his neck—there was no way she was still working at it—Tora smirked at the idea that she was touching him now just for the sake of touching him. “Feelin’ like maybe we should go back to ya place. Whaddaya say, Bobby? Pit stop before cake?”

She inhaled sharply before she brought one hand to rest beside his elbow, the other playfully smacking his ribs as he pretended to wince, “shit, Bobby. We can do it in the car, too, if that’s what ya prefer.”

He laughed as she blushed, gasping and bringing both her hands up to his mouth as she shook her head. “You’re…”

As he waited for her to finish her sentence, Tora smiled behind her hands. His lips moved against her fingers as he said, “yeah, Bobby? I’m what.”

All of a sudden, her mouth, which had been pulled up at the corners, slipped into the ghost of a smile, her lips parting as she exhaled, her eyes flicking back and forth between his. She tilted her head, the movement so slight that Tora might’ve missed it if he hadn’t been staring at her intently, watching every change in her expression, every shift of her body as she held his face, her fingers warm beneath his nose. _I love ya._ A breeze gusted outside the car, and Tora could feel it pushing against the doors, the windows, the world outside threatening to tumble into their small space, the faint tick of the heater as it blew loose strands of her hair around her braids. He should really tell her, he thought, before he fuckin’ blurted it out like he almost had on the fuckin’ toilet. He needed her to know, needed her to know how much she meant to him, that he’d never fuckin’ felt this way before. Was this love? Was this what Quince was always after in his books? It fuckin’ must be, felt like fallin’ off the edge of the world but he wasn’t scared. Knew she’d be there on the other side. His Bobby.

Slowly, she pulled her fingers from his mouth, running them along his lips gently as he smiled softly at her. Para-simpin’—but he wasn’t stressed. Did she think he was? Or maybe, his chest swelled at the thought, swallowing hard, maybe she liked the feel of his lips, his skin on hers.

“You,” she finally said. “You’re you.”

“Oh yeah?” he smirked, “good to know, sweetheart.” He thought he might know what she was sayin’, though, Quincey’s phrase coming back to him in the inches of space between her face and his. _Your person._ Her tiger. Fuck, he liked how it made him feel, thinking that she thought of him that way. Maybe he was wrong, but Tora didn’t let himself dwell on that—wouldn’t let the doubt into this moment. Something about the look in her eyes was telling him he wasn’t wrong.

She smiled, nodding, finally leaning back into her seat, his hand falling away from her side as he turned to rest it on the console between them. He buckled himself in as Poppy did the same, glancing up to look at each other as they fastened their seatbelts simultaneously. “So, ya know the way, Bobby,” he asked, “or do ya need me to show ya?”

She put the car in drive, glancing over her shoulder at her blind spot before carefully maneuvering the car from the curb. “I know the way. Buuuut,” she drew out the word as she drove them down the street, pulling past the Starbucks on the right, the creepy fuckin’ mermaid in the window.

“But…” he asked, readjusting Bull in his lap where the plant had shifted and tossing the bag with the patches onto the floor between his feet.

“Since you’re the navigator, you get to control the music,” she said, reaching over and turning up the volume a couple clicks. He laughed, picking up the phone she’d placed in the center console and waiting until she’d pulled to a stop at the intersection to hold it out to her. “No, you’re in charge of it,” she said, pushing the phone back toward him.

“Bobby, ya gotta unlock it. Quick before the light turns,” he added, glancing back through the windshield.

“5-6-8-3,” she said as she threw the turn signal on, inching closer to the car in front of them. Tora felt his lips part before he swallowed, focusing his attention on the phone in his hand, the crack running down the screen as he carefully thumbed in the passcode, trying again when it didn’t work. Tried not to think about how easily, how quickly she’d just given him her code, couldn’t help but think back to that night at Chevy’s, the way she’d unlocked it for him, let him add his number. Hadn’t even known him. _I trust you, Tora._ “Oh, sorry. Forgot I changed it. Um, 8-6-7-2,” she said, pulling forward as the light turned and the car in front of them shot around the corner onto the riverfront boulevard. Tora glanced at her, thumbing it in and pulling up her playlist. “My ex,” she said after a moment, her eyes trained on the bumper in front of them, only one car-length separating them. “He knew my pin, my passwords. Didn’t realize it until this morning when—” she broke off, shaking her head, before glancing out the left-hand mirror and quickly cutting out around the car in front of them, speeding up as they passed.

“Shit, Bob—” Tora grabbed the bar at the top of his door, steadying Bull with the heel of his other hand, grasping the phone between his thumb and index. “Take it easy,” he said, eyes flicking to the rearview mirror as he watched the other car fall away behind them. “One piece, ‘member?” he pulled his lip up at her, trying to hide his worry—something had clearly upset her about her ex and he wondered what the fuck that motherfucker had done to spur her to change her pin number. And this morning? He’d been with her the whole day—she hadn’t seemed upset and he hadn’t seen the cocksucker anywhere, kept thinkin’ about his fuckin’ face in that photo. His hand on Bobby’s head, all pressed up against her, fuck.

She nodded toward the phone, “did you get it?”

He looked down at the screen which had locked again. “Yeah, uh 8-6-7-2, right?” he asked as he pressed each number, waiting until the phone registered his touch on a delay. Shit, she really needed a new one—hopefully Ronzo would have them ready by the time they got back to her place.

“Mmhmm,” she nodded, flicking the turn signal to take a right over the bridge coming up, the country road that would eventually lead them to Moonbright. Tora scrolled through the songs, not recognizing any of them, and there were so goddamn many.

“Bobby, help me out here,” he said, frowning slightly as he continued to scroll, his thumb accidentally hitting one of the songs, “shit.”

“Oh, no—,” she reached over and touched his forearm as they turned onto the bridge, “I love this one,” she said as an electric guitar pulsed a steady rhythm over the tonic of a minor key, the melody dipping down to the dominant before rising back up and repeating, the instrumentals jumping in with the drums to reinforce the beat just before a male singer, a high voice, crooned. Tora turned to look at Bobby in surprise as she sang freely from the get, her voice louder than he’d ever heard her sing before, her mouth open on a smile as she moved her head side to side with the beat, her shoulders rolling as she leaned forward in the seat, both hands on the wheel. “ _Hoooo-ping for a change, running from the noise inside my brain. The stranger on my face. Soooo-mething’s gotta give. We’re going through the motions, paralyzed, I freeze up every time._ ” All of sudden, she turned to him, grinning as she continued singing, shaking her finger at him with each word, “ _what the heck do I know? Looking for an answer, learn from my mistakes—_ ” Tora busted out laughing, couldn’t help it when he heard her censor the word _hell_. “What?” she looked back at the road in front of them, the bridge towering up overhead as they passed under the wire arches that connected across the large triangular supports, concrete wishbones cutting against the bright blue sky over the river.

“Ya just fuckin’ cute, Bobby,” he said, rolling his head back on the seat to smile at her again, reaching a hand out and pinching her cheek.

“Tora!” she leaned away, “jeez, one piece,” she laughed. He shook his head, sighing as he looked out at the water—he’d driven over the bridge many times—not just to get to Moonbright. Knew the road at the other end of the bank split a couple different directions, most of them leading to freeways that allowed at least a couple lanes of traffic each way. But the road to Moonbright would cut down to one lane on each side as soon as they’d crossed over. He was looking forward to the drive, he realized, wasn’t sure how fast Bobby’d get them there, though judgin’ by her pace so far, it’d probably be quicker than he’d expected. The sunlight refracted along the peaks where the water rippled from the wind below them—it looked so different during the day than it did at night when the depths seemed bottomless, a black artery that creeped along the city.

“ _Oh my! Leave it all behind me! Everything was black and white inside, but I’m seeing color. We grow as we learn to let go, pushing through the black and white inside, see in coloooor,_ ” she bobbed her head to the beat exaggeratedly, her braids thumbing against her chest with the movements of her head as she palmed the top of the wheel on the downbeats. “ _Ouuuut-side of my skin been waiting my whole life just to begin, patient but giving in. Stiiiill, I celebrate. Stronger with each scar and every scratch that I’ve collected. But what the heck do I know—_ ” Tora laughed again, softly to himself at her self-censorship as he gazed out at the water—had he ever felt at peace like this before? Maybe that one morning on her couch as he’d held her, the rain dripping off her balcony. He wanted to live in this moment forever. She glanced over at him, stopping mid-line through the song’s bridge as she nudged his elbow on the console with her own. “You know, another way you can make a wish is if you toss a coin off the side,” she said.

He looked over at her, his brows pulling up over his nose, “what, over the railing?”

“Mmhmm,” she nodded, turning her gaze back through the windshield as they crested the highest point of the bridge, the steel cords of the supports beaming over them, white crosshatches against the sky. “I mean, it can really be any kind of water—fountains are usually what people wish on, but my dad would take me to all these little bridges in the woods growing up, too. There’s one behind Granny’s house we used to sit at all the time. Of course,” she shrugged, “I’d say it was more like a creek than a river like this,” she said nodding out toward his window as they approached the tree line on the other side. “But if a little stream counts for wishing, then I think something like this would, too.”

“Shit, Bob,” he huffed a laugh through his nose, “there anythin’ ya _don’t_ wish on?”

She tilted her head as though actually considering it and he smiled, waiting for what he was pretty certain was gonna be some feisty shit. “I guess it doesn’t really matter,” she said finally as the car dipped over the metal grates at the end of the bridge, zipping past the point where the trees dotted the edge of the river, the sunlight falling in patches through the windshield as it cut in and out through the trees along the side of the road.

He frowned, “whaddaya mean?”

“Well, it’s not really about _what_ you make your wish on, you know,” she lifted a hand from the wheel, gesturing palm-up toward him. “Like, it’s not really about the object at all,” she said, meeting his eyes for a second before turning back to the road as they approached the point where it diverged into three different routes—the path to Moonbright down the middle. “It’s not like the water or the star or the eyelash, you know—whatever it is you’re wishing on—it’s not like _they_ determine whether or not your wish comes true.” She turned to look in her blind spot, quickly maneuvering around a car that she’d gained on before moving back in front of them. Shit, she was fuckin’ speedy, he thought, watching as the car grew smaller and smaller in the passenger side mirror. “ _You_ have to do the work to make it come true.”

He turned to look at her. “Then why wish at all?” He smirked lightly thinking of the sweatshirt she’d worn the first night he’d met her, “why not just do it?”

She smiled as they passed the other exits, the road narrowing into two lanes—one going either direction. A speed limit sign flashed by them, indicating that they could go faster now that they were officially outside the borders of the city. He felt the car pick up as she pressed on the gas, the trunks of the trees blurring on either side of the car, so it looked at once like they were both flying and standing still. “It’s like the ritual of the thing. The point when you decide for yourself, you know? When you’re most honest with yourself.” She paused, licking her bottom lip, “can’t lie to yourself after that because you’ve admitted it.”

“Admitted what, Bobby?” he was watching her closely, every minute change in her face as the delicate muscle structures shifted at his words.

“What you want.”

As she swallowed, the song ended, the punchy bass line dropping out just moments before the guitar faded over the last few chords. For a couple seconds, Tora could only hear the sound of the engine purring, the low hum of the heater. The rush of air around the car battering the sides gently as the tree line suddenly fell away around them, the view through the windshield opening up to a vast expanse of golden fields on either side of the road—long stalks of grass that swirled like hair, feathering in the wind. He watched as she took a breath, the next song kicking off around a drumbeat, a synth repeating an upbeat melody, a breathy male voice singing, _I don’t believe in fate, no psychic vision._ Tora swallowed at the words, turned to look out the passenger window as Bobby started to sing softly along, his heart thrumming in his chest. “ _But when things fall into place, superposition. In any universe, you are my dark star. I want you to want me, why don’t we rely on chemistry? Why don’t we collide the spaces that divide us, I want you to want me._ ” Tora clenched his jaw, breathing heavily through his nose as his right thumb stroked the leaves of the plant against his open palm. Did she realize what she was sayin’? Or was it just a good song for her? Fuck, he really wanted to tell her—after everything they’d shared so far, the other night…

“Oh,” she said suddenly, turning the volume down until the song was just a soft pulse beneath the blow of the heat. “How’s the patch so far? You feel it?”

Tora turned back to look at her, bringing his left hand up to stroke at the square on his neck, surprised he’d forgotten about it. Now that she’d mentioned it, though, he realized his hands hadn’t been itchin’ for a smoke and the ache in his head had dulled significantly to the point where he could barely notice it anymore, like background noise. Was used to much worse kinds of pain and discomfort. Hell, he realized, even his leg had stopped twinging so bad—had his body really been craving nicotine that bad? _Fuck, ya goddamned weak_. “Think it’s workin’,” he said, suddenly very aware of the feel of the adhesive pulling at his skin, the raised scars on his neck beneath the patch. “Sure as shit beats the fuckin’ gum,” he said, smirking as she rolled her eyes.

“Well, the gum’s not for everyone, but I’m glad you tried it,” she said.

“Yeah,” he grunted, “ya can thank Quince for that.” He turned back toward the window, letting out a frustrated sigh through his nose, “shouldn’t fuckin’ need it, though.” He shook his head at himself, squeezing the leather edge of the armrest between them.

“Hey,” she said, her fingers pushing into the spaces between his, curling over his hand. “I told you, it’s okay to need help. Even the strongest people need support, doesn’t make you weak,” she tightened her hand on his as he bit the inside of his mouth—easy for her to say, she wasn’t the fuckin’ addict gettin’ all fuckin’ shaky without a goddamn cigarette. As if reading his mind, she went on, “in fact, being able to ask for help, to accept help,” she shook her head. “That’s true strength.”

He huffed, “ya just sayin’ that, sweetheart. Don’t gotta say shit to make me feel better.” He glanced over at her and, seeing her frown, lightened his voice, trying for a joke, “I’m a big boy, Bobby.” He flipped his hand in hers so that his palm pressed against her own, so warm, his fingers lining up with the spaces between hers and slipping between them without having to look. Felt so goddamn natural, like his hand was made to hold hers, like— _home_ , he thought before laughing at himself, _shit. What a fuckin’ sap._ As he felt her squeeze him though, he looked down at their joined hands, his fingers pressing between her knuckles. Wondered what it felt like for her.

“I needed your help the other night,” she said softly after a moment and he looked up, watching her throat move around a swallow. He felt his brows furrow, _the fuck was she talkin’ about?_ “At the bar?” she said, her voice rising up in question, like she was asking if he remembered.

“Bobby, what—”

“Your coworker,” she said, and Tora felt his heart drop through his ribs, bottoming out around his pelvis like a dead fuckin’ fish as he held his breath, “Claude.” He swallowed, hated the man’s name in her mouth, wished she’d never had to meet him. He’d fuckin’ kill the son of a bitch. His eyes were glued to her face, fingers tight around her hand as his other clutched Bull to his lap. Vaguely, he registered another song click on, couldn’t make out the words, the melody. Only had ears for Bobby, her shallow breaths as her thumb moved slowly up and down along the outside of his. “I met him outside Giant Goldfish earlier in the week—him and the redhead, they came with Quincey. Smoking outside,” she said softly, keeping her eyes unblinking on the stretch of road in front of them, a truck passing by in the opposite direction that made the car sway gently to the side at the push of the wind between the two vehicles. Like two magnets pushing apart.

“It’s a gut feeling,” she said, and Tora felt his stomach clench at the phrase, Quincey’s voice at the front of his mind. “You might not understand this, but as someone on the short side,” she said, huffing a sharp laugh, humorless, “ _and_ a woman, a lot of people assume they can push me around.” She shook her head and Tora watched her jaw clench once, steeling herself. “Usually I’m not so easily pushed, my dad taught me how to fight—did I tell you that?” she turned to look at him, a look of determination across her face. There was pride there, too, fierce in her eyes as he inclined his head. She hadn’t told him that, and he had to admit, it made him feel a little better—he’d need to ask her what exactly she meant by fighting, but later. That could come later. She turned to look back at the road, her thumb still firmly stroking his—he couldn’t tell if it was for him or for her. Maybe both. “I felt it in my gut—something was off about them. And I did the thing. The thing I normally do to get out of situations that feel…wrong. Off.”

She nodded, glancing at the rearview mirror as a car came into focus behind them, quickly gaining. Tora felt himself stiffen, eyes on the reflection as the car drew nearer—a black sedan, sleek. What were the odds a car like that would be driving to Moonbright? On a Saturday? There was nothing but countryside all the way to shore from here. He swallowed, maybe it was nothin’. They were in a similar car, too—nothin’ shady about him and Bobby goin’ to Moonbright today. He forced his attention back to Bobby as she continued, “you find an escape route. Fight or flight—you have to know which one to choose. For me, flight’s a safer bet. And lucky for me, we were out in the open, plenty of options.” She glanced in the mirror again, muttering, “jeez,” as she flicked on the Lexus’s hazards, moving closer to the edge of the road so the car could pass them. Tora held his breath as she slowed, suddenly very aware of the gun pressed up between his back and the seat, of the angle of his arm around Bull, how quickly he would be able to draw his weapon in the tight space if needed. He tensed his legs, spreading his knees slightly, engaging his core as he pressed his heels into the floor of the car, his hand stilling on Bull. Waiting, the car drawing near, until it was flashing around them, passing over the middle line, and cutting back in front of them. He exhaled, watching it grow smaller through the windshield, fucker was goin’ fast. Poppy turned off the hazard lights, moving back to the middle of the lane as she picked up speed again. She was quiet for a moment and Tora waited, turning his gaze back to look at her as he squeezed her hand.

She swallowed, seeming to come to. “But on the roof,” she said, taking a breath. Gathering herself as she exhaled forcefully through her nose. “On the roof, it was different. Not like I could just jump off the side, you know?” she huffed a laugh, again humorless. Tora blinked at the words—fuck, he hated that image, hated that it was in his brain now. Certain he’d see it again in his nightmares, no way he wouldn’t see Bobby, fallin’ from rooves from now on. His heart clenched at the thought. Danger, Bobby always in danger. Because of him. The clan, his life. The gun at his back. “I’m strong, Tora,” she said then, her voice firm, steady as she looked over at him, meeting his eyes for a moment before turning back to the road.

“I know that, Poppylan.”

She pressed her lips together against a small smile as her brows drew together, her throat moving as she swallowed his words. “But that man,” she shook her head. “I needed help getting out of that situation, handling him. And that’s not to say that if you hadn’t been there that I wouldn’t have figured something out—I know I would have,” she said turning toward him, her voice rising as though reassuring him of her ability, of her strength. “But that’s what I’m saying, you see? I know you can quit on your own—it’d probably be a lot harder. Probably take longer, too, more ups and downs, false starts. You could _do_ it, though,” she said, pausing and looking over at him. “But why do it alone when you don’t have to?” She shook her head again as Tora leaned his head back on the seat, watching her, her thumb still stroking his hand. “Doesn’t make you weak for getting help, for knowing your limits. We’re only human, Tora. You’re only one person.”

She smiled at him from the corner of her eye, “I know you’re a _big boy_ ,” she said, using his phrase as he released a laugh through his nose, the tension breaking. “But if you carry the weight of the world on your shoulders by yourself, holding everyone and everything else up over your head, you’re going to get crushed.” Her voice grew softer as she spoke, staring out the windshield as they passed a sign for Moonbright, Tora recognizing the spot where he’d pulled over last week to text her. Fuck, felt like a lifetime ago. “I don’t want you to get crushed. Won’t let you.”

Tora looked down at the plant in his lap, fingering one of the leaves lightly, squeezing soft. Could feel the gel Bobby had said was inside shifting under the gentle pressure. _Crushed_. He bit the inside of his lip as she pulled off onto the exit for Moonbright, a couple signs with arrows flashing by them as the triangle of grass between the main road and the path they took widened. He didn’t know what to say, knowing she wasn’t fuckin’ wrong. But trusting people enough to ask them for help, to rely on them for help…shit like that could get him killed. Or worse now, he realized, looking over at Poppy, her braids swinging in front of her as she leaned over the steering wheel to look up and down the T-intersection they’d slowed to at the end of the exit before flicking the turn signal and taking a left, her right hand still clutched firmly around his.

“Bobby, pull over.” She turned quickly to look at him, her expression pinched with worry, eyes wide as she threw on the hazards again, pulling off to the side of the road right before a tunnel that dipped under the country road they’d just been on.

“Tora?” her voice trailed off as he unbuckled, shifting Bull from his lap and throwing open the passenger door, not bothering to close it as he walked around to the driver’s side where Poppy had quickly climbed from the car and stepped around her open door. “Tora, are you—”

Before she could finish her question, Tora had circled his arms around her, easily scooping her up against his torso as his lips crushed against hers, one of his hands gripping her around the waist as the other pressed flat between her shoulder blades. She responded immediately, her arms wrapping around his neck, could feel the sleeve of her sweater catching against the sticky edge of the nicotine patch as she clung to him, one of her hands moving to cup the back of his shoulder as the other cradled his head to her. Poppy’s mouth opened against his, tongue hot on his lips as he groaned, opening himself to her, allowing her inside him, the breath from her nose hot on his skin as he squeezed her tighter to him. Tora heard a car coming up the road slowing down as it passed, giving them a wide berth—he couldn’t bring himself to give a single shit. This woman in his arms, his hamster, his Bobby. No one had ever—

Tora could feel the burn at the back of his throat, the sting in his eyes as he squeezed them shut tighter, his lips desperate against her as he felt Poppy wrap her legs around his waist, a soft moan from her chest as she rocked up against him. He shuddered under the weight of everything he felt for her, could feel his quad spasming as she ran her tongue along his bottom lip again—tasted so sweet, a whisper of chocolate and spice. He dragged his mouth from hers, kissing along her jaw. Could feel his eyebrows pull together at the center of his face as he took deep breaths through his nose, his mouth, could feel Bobby doing the same, her chest heaving against his as he kissed his way up along her cheek, her nose, until he rested his forehead against hers. He listened to the sound of their panting, the soft chime of the car alerting them the doors were open, the breeze in the trees behind them off to the side of the road, could hear the wind whistling through the tunnel ahead of them. So fuckin’ peaceful here, her hometown, so far from the city. He swallowed, heart thumping in his chest, his throat, could feel his pulse throbbing against the patch under her arm. “Bobby,” he whispered, his voice hoarse as he drew another breath through his open mouth. “Bobby, I love ya.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you thank you thank you for your comments—I love them all! They make me cackle and also cry, sometimes at the same time! 🥰 I absolutely love writing this story—it brings me so much joy and has helped me so much mentally/emotionally/you name it, so knowing you’re all hanging in there with me means the world to me ❤️❤️❤️❤️ I know exactly how the next chapter is going to end and you are gonna flip a fuckin table I am so excited 😚😚😚😚
> 
> Song credits for last two chapters of Poppy’s “oh happy days” playlist, dedicated to PhantomDingo ❤️ : Leon Bridges “Smooth Sailin’” | Finish Ticket “Color” | Young the Giant “Superposition”
> 
> ✨ I’m on IG now @melarela1223 where I post WIPs, inspo, and other random shit about Chasing Poppies/Lunar Effect ✨
> 
> Ch. 33: Tora waits with bated breath…


	33. Fly free

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tora and Poppy get some cake in Moonbright and run into a familiar face just before a familiar place. Bull makes a friend, too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y’all still on board this train to Fluff City? Don’t fall off just yet, we’ve got a little ways to go 😉
> 
> As always, characters belong to the real MVP Lilydusk, brilliant creator of Midnight Poppy Land. Support her on Patreon! https://www.patreon.com/lilydusk

**Chapter 33**

He swallowed, heart thumping in his chest, his throat, could feel his pulse throbbing against the patch under her arm. “Bobby,” he whispered, his voice hoarse as he drew another breath through his open mouth. “Bobby, I love ya.”

He waited a moment, listening as her breath caught in her throat, squeezing his eyes shut harder. Didn’t matter if she didn’t say it back, didn’t fuckin’ matter. He’d needed to tell her, was staggering under the weight of it, needed her to know how fuckin’ special she was. What she meant, but shit, for all she knew, he went around sayin’ this shit to everyone. No way could she know—

She breathed a laugh and Tora’s eyes flew open, his brows pulling up at the sound, her face so close to his, their foreheads still pressed together he couldn’t really see her, fuckin’ cross-eyed. As he made to pull back from her, get a better look at her, she pushed forward, her lips hot on his again, the fingers of the hand at the back of his head gripping him, threading through the hair at the base of his neck as she hummed against him. And he was kissing her back, his tongue finding hers, his mouth open in a smile, could feel her lips pulled up, too, her laugh filling him, lifting him up, the sun bright overhead, warm on his hair. Tora brought his hand down to grip the back of her thigh, pulling her securely against him, his forearm running along her leg, helping to hold her up as she clutched at him, her legs tightening around his waist, her feet hooked under his ass, knew that if he moved his arm she wasn’t goin’ anywhere. A car sped over the tunnel, the sound echoing up the road at them as Tora broke away from her mouth, kissing her cheekbone, then her forehead before he pulled back to look at her, his eyes running over her face. Her lips were swollen, pinker than normal as she smiled at him, her skin rosy with heat, her brown eyes so warm, felt like he was fallin’ into her. He closed his eyes briefly at the feel of her fingers stroking through the hair at his neck before she brought her hand around to cup his jaw, her thumb stroking over his cheek.

“I know,” she said softly, her eyes flicking between his as her lips parted again, “and I know it’s early, but you know I love _you_ , right?”

Tora clenched his jaw, his nostrils flaring as he exhaled through his nose on a ragged breath, his eyes on hers, couldn’t look away from this woman in his arms on the side of the road of the hometown she’d chosen to share with him, this woman he loved who had chosen him, kept fuckin’ choosin’ him. _Loved_ him. She fuckin’ _loved_ him. Her thumb still stroking his face as the hand at his back rubbed circles on his shoulder blade. _All living things need love. I tell them I care about them—_ he leaned forward, holding her gaze as he pressed his lips to hers, watching as she melted against him, the hum in her throat surrounding them, pulling him into her as he let his eyes drift shut, his hands, his arms gripping her soft body tight against him— _like this_. Tora felt her shiver against him as a stronger breeze blew up the road, whipping dry leaves down the pavement. He kissed her one last time, before moving his lips to her throat, pressing them to the thin skin beneath her ear as he felt her laugh against his chest. 

“Whaddaya say, Bobby,” he murmured, nosing her braid and inhaling deeply, her scent filling him, fuckin’ drunk on her. “Think we can drive like this? Not ready to put ya down.”

She threw her head back as she laughed, her hands moving to grip the tops of his shoulders as he leaned further into her, lips trailing down her throat as his chin nestled into the soft, heavy fabric of the sweater around her neck. “I don’t know,” she gasped, panting around her laughs as he nipped at her neck, “think you might get too distracted. One piece, remember?”

He laughed against her neck, shit, she wasn’t wrong. The desire he felt for her seemed bottomless, he desperately wanted to be inside her, wanted to feel her skin-to-skin. She fuckin’ _loved_ him. Bobby _loved_ him. He felt his chest bloom, like he might fly the fuck away, Bobby both grounding him and pulling him up—how could one person make him feel so many different fuckin’ things?

“Plus, we came all this way for cake,” she said, pressing her lips to his ear before she released her legs from around his waist, sliding down his torso as he loosened his arms around her.

“Shit, Bobby,” he murmured, cupping her face so that she looked at him, meeting his eyes in question as he shook his head softly, “didn’t come here for cake, sweetheart,” he said as she tilted her head in confusion, her lips parting around an inhale. “Came to spend time with ya, Bobby. I missed ya, wish I could spend every day with ya,” he sighed, eyes flicking between hers. Needed her to know she was everything. “I love ya,” he smiled as he said it. Fuck, it felt so good to say it.

He watched as she took a shaky inhale, eyes wide—maybe it’d been too much. He knew it was soon, but shit, she loved him back. Something passed over her face, maybe brought on by his words, his admission of how much he just wanted to be with her, but a moment later she had pulled her lips into a smirk, “not sick of me yet?”

He smiled, hoping she’d understand he was serious even though she was clearly masking her question with a joke, “never, sweetheart. Pinky.” She bit her lip around a smile, and he couldn’t help it, reached out and pinched her cheek as she quickly tried and failed to dodge him before pulling her face out of his grip. Fuck, she was too fuckin’ cute. “Come on, let’s get ya some cake,” he let his hand fall to the end of one of her braids, tugging lightly before he put his arm around her, walking her back to the open driver’s side door and waiting until she’d climbed in to close the door behind her. He took a deep breath, biting his tongue against the grin that was sliding up his face—couldn’t stop it though as he walked around the hood of the car, smacking his hand against it once as he let out a whoop before quickly bringing his hand to his mouth, letting his fingers drag down over his chin as he met Bobby’s eyes through the windshield, could see her laughing, hear her laughing through his open door as he ducked down, climbing into the passenger seat and shifting Bull back into his lap. He pulled the door closed quickly and, before she could pull back out onto the road, he leaned across the console, pressing a kiss to her cheek before he reached back over to grab his seatbelt, buckling himself in. Fuck, he really felt like he was flyin’.

“So, what’s so special about this cake, Bobby,” he asked as they made their way slowly along a strip of road that seemed to be a sort of town center, short brick buildings, just two-stories tall, lining either side of the street which had widened to include diagonal parking spaces along the curbs. Colorful awnings above the glass storefronts and wooden boxes planted with flowers dotted the sidewalks.

“Mmm,” Poppy hummed, “you’ll see.” Tora peered out the passenger window as she pulled into one of the open spots, peering up at the wrought iron lampposts hung with banners that read _Harvestfest_. There were even trees every few paces, the leaves all golden reds and oranges. As Tora stepped from the car, he could hear them rustling, dry in the breeze.

“Oh, I think you can leave Bull in the car for this one, Tora,” she said, placing her hand on the roof as she closed the driver’s side door gently, nodding her head toward the little dinosaur plant that he’d pulled from the car, tucked against his elbow. He looked down at the leaves, stroking them absently between his fingers as he glanced up at Bobby doubtfully. “I think the chill in the air might shock his system if he keeps coming in and out of the car—we won’t be long,” she reassured him, her head tilting at the look on his face. _Shock his system? The fuck?_ He glanced down at the plant and then back up at Poppy.

“Ya mean, he can get hurt? Not just killed, but hurt?”

She tilted her head at him, her brows furrowing slightly in confusion, “well, he’s alive, Tora. Of course he can get hurt.”

Tora felt his mouth fall open, hadn’t even considered— _fuck_. He’d thought he just had to worry about him dyin’, runnin’ out of love. But he could shock his system? What the fuck did that even mean? Tora quickly opened his door again, ducking down into the car and setting Bull on the seat. “Be right back,” he murmured before closing him into the car. He walked around the hood, cocking an eyebrow at the small smile on Bobby’s face as he drew an arm around her shoulders—he’d been thinking about it in the car as they’d made their way to the bakery. The chances that there’d be any clan members here were slim to fuckin’ none, could afford to let his guard down with her in public here. The car he’d thought was tailin’ them had flown right on by—he was being fuckin’ paranoid, for good reason, but still. On this one day, he was gonna try to just enjoy the moment with her. And if he weren’t in the clan, if the mafia wasn’t something always hanging over him like a dark fuckin’ cloud, he’d put his arms around her all the time. Wouldn’t think twice about huggin’ her, kissin’ her wherever. As if to prove it to himself, as her arm slid around his waist resting just above his ass, he brought his free hand up to her jaw, pausing their walk for a moment to lean down and kiss her. Right there on the sidewalk. Let himself close his eyes without worryin’ about who saw. It was just him and Bobby. He’d kissed her outside her building before, but the clan had always been at the back of his mind, aware they could be fuckin’ anywhere. Hell, even Quincey’d caught them. But here…her smile against his lips was so fuckin’ warm, soft. He breathed once more before lifting away. As he stood back up, Tora felt her arm adjust, below his waistband and his heart clenched for a moment, worried she’d felt the gun, but if she had, she didn’t mention it. He decided to push it from his mind—all clan shit from his mind. “Now, ya gonna have to be very specific about how I should be takin’ care of Bull, cause I don’t know what the fuck a _shock_ is,” he said, thinking of the warehouse. The meatpacking plant. The blood on the pot. If plants could feel love, could they feel invisible pain, too? Had he fuckin’ traumatized him?

Her fingers squeezed him as they walked, and he could hear the smile in her voice as she answered him, “Tora, you’re doing a phenomenal job. Sometimes plants can just be a little sensitive to sudden changes in temperature,” she explained. “And since we had the heat on in the car and it’s a little chilly outside…” she trailed off, looking up at him, smiling at the bewildered fuckin’ look on his face as she patted his stomach. “It’s okay, we adjust. Just figured no need to stress him out, we’ll be right back.” _Stress him out? Fuck._ “Tora, really,” her expression changed to one of earnestness, “have you not noticed the way he’s grown in the last couple days? He’s clearly getting lots of love,” she said. Tora swallowed back a smile, his chest surging with warmth. Fuck, he really was a fuckin’ sap, wasn’t he. But the worry and anxiety that’d crept up his spine just moments ago were already fading.

Poppy squeezed his side again, directing them toward the storefront that had curly script on the glass. Reminded him of the text on Quincey’s expensive fuckin’ wines. “Shit, Bobby, for someone who eats Twizzlers for breakfast, didn’t realize ya were into such _fancy_ sweets,” he smirked at her as they approached the door, withdrawing his arm from around her so he could open it for her, bending at the waist like the servants he’d seen in Quincey’s soaps and waving his hand out in front of him. He caught her eye and deepened his smirk.

 _Tch_ , she clicked her teeth, fighting back her own smile as she ran her hand along the underside of his chin on her way past him into the shop. He grinned as he stood back up, the smile almost immediately falling from his face as another woman sidled up to the door before he could walk through.

“Why, thank you,” she murmured to him as she followed Poppy into the store. Tora sighed, fighting the urge to roll his eyes. Just wanted to spend the motherfuckin’ day with his girl. He brushed past her once he was in the bakery, moving to stand beside Poppy who slipped her hand into his. She pointed to the glass case at a stack of rectangular cakes layered with different colors—browns and whites, the frosting thin and pale on top. On top of each slice sat a fresh strawberry. Tora’s mouth ran dry. A coincidence, it was a fuckin’ coincidence that Poppy liked the fruit so much—she’d told him they were her dad’s favorites. _Good memories_ , she’d said. Of course she liked them. And like he’d already decided, it didn’t matter who the strawberry girl had actually been. Still, he couldn’t help but wonder how far they were from the yellow house—wasn’t familiar with the area at all, for all he knew they were miles away.

“Tora?” he blinked a couple times, realizing Poppy’d been talking to him.

“Sorry, Poppy. What?”

“I was asking if you want to split one or if you want your own.”

“How ‘bout we get two, save one for later,” he offered. “We did come _all this way_ —” he emphasized the last few words, using her own phrase.

“I said what I said,” she deadpanned, glancing up at him through her lashes as she smirked lightly.

“—And I have a feelin’ a hamster’s gonna get hungry on the ride back.”

She laughed against him, “don’t act like I’m the only one who needs to eat.”

“Not sayin’ that, Poppy,” he squeezed her shoulder, “I’m just lookin’ out for ya, sweetheart. Gotta make sure ya get ya daily dose of pure sugar. Straight to ya bloodstream,” he smirked. “S’why ya so sweet.”

She huffed, “they sell sandwiches, too, you know,” she said, pointing toward the end of the case. _Huh_ , he hadn’t known that. As he turned to follow where her finger was pointing, he felt his phone buzzing in his pocket. Tora clenched his jaw for a moment, determined to ignore it, but Poppy had felt it, too, her arm just inches above his vibrating ass. “You gonna get that?”

He sighed, remembering his stupid fuckin’ texts to Quincey—hopefully the man was callin’ him back. He fished the device from his pocket, squinting at the screen as Poppy watched his face. Sure the fuck enough, Quincey’s name glared up at him through the fog of hairline fractures. “Shit, Poppy. Yeah, gotta take it. He took out his wallet, handing it to her before pressing a kiss to the top of her head and walking toward the door, “get whatever ya want, sweetheart. Won’t take long.”

As he made his way toward the front of the store, thumbing repeatedly at the answer button, he accidentally made eye contact with the woman from before who glanced back at Poppy before returning to look him up and down before she frowned at her phone. Tora rolled his eyes, turning his head from her as he put his own device to his ear, pushing his way out of the bakery and back into the sunlight.

“Quince—”

“Tora? Tora, are you okay? I just got out of yoga and saw your texts and—”

The man sounded frantic, like he was practically losin’ his damn mind. “Fuck, Quince. M’fuckin’ fine,” he grunted, huffing as he moved to stand a few paces away from the building, his gaze shifting to a sewer grate across the street where steam puffed out lazily.

He listened as Quincy took a deep breath, the force of his exhale crackling over the phone. “Sorry, honey,” he said after a moment, as Tora furrowed his brow. What the fuck was he sorry about? “Thought it was like an SOS or something, like you were…” he trailed off for a moment, “incapacitated.”

“The fuck, Quince? Calm the fuck down. Shit,” he muttered. He’d been about to lay into the man about takin’ Claude and Scharch to Poppy’s building, but felt the anger leave his lungs as he listened to his brother trying to calm his breathing. _Fuckin’ A_. “Poppy told me Lang and Scharch—” he swallowed back the bile in his throat, “—that they were givin’ her problems. Saw it at the bar last night, too. Need ya to make it so that they never have the opportunity to see her again,” he said, thinking of what might happen if and when Vincent assigned him another multi-day task. “If I’m not around…” he trailed off, clenching his jaw, hoping his brother could read the subtext of what he was sayin’, “…need to know she’s gonna be safe. That those sick fucks—” he broke off, nostrils flaring as he stared hard at the sewer, biting his lip. A man crossed his vision, jogging across the street, as Tora let his eyes find the steam again, following the path it curled up into the air, dissipating around the small tree planted in the sidewalk above the curb. He watched as the leaves rustled in the breeze, oranges, golds, and reds all brittle, quivering together, hanging on for dear life. A couple of them snapped off, twirling in the air as the wind carried them down the street.

“Tora,” Quincey said, “I’m going to keep you two safe.”

Tora sighed, a nice gesture, but it wasn’t what he was after. He was a lost fuckin’ cause. “ _Her_ , Quince. Not me, her.” He took a breath, listening to the sound of his brother’s inhales on the other end over the wind cutting against the microphone. “Listen, we’re in Moonbri—” Quincey gasped, and Tora frowned, continuing, “Moonbright right now, not gonna be back to the city for at least a couple hours. If ya get wind of any shady shit ya call me, got it?”

When Quincey spoke again, his voice was lighter, practically giddy, “There will be no shady shit to speak of,” he said, enunciating the T in shit as Tora rolled his eyes.

“Quince, just—”

“Tora, Tora, Tora!” he suddenly shouted, and Tora quickly pulled the phone from his ear. _Goddamn motherfuck_ — “listen to this, listen,” Quincey said, clearing his throat. “Your heart,” he paused for dramatic effect, and Tora rolled his eyes. Could practically picture the man lounging on his couch, legs crossed, still in his fuckin’ yoga tights, hand waving lazily in the air around a fuckin’ latte.

“Quince—”

“—is a balloon. A _balloon_ , Tora. Fly free.” Tora huffed a laugh through his nose. Well, fuck—he did feel like he was fuckin’ floating. “And get this, get this: the air is _dense_ with pheromones,” he lowered his voice on the word dense, drawing it out slow as Tora clicked his teeth. “Your horoscope says to get lost in passion. Best believe I will know if you did not—”

“Quincey,” Tora bit out forcefully, cutting the man off mid-sentence. “Fuck’s sake, just—” he rubbed the back of his neck, palm skimming the patch as he wound his hand up to grip his nape, his thumb resting on the prominent bump of his spine. “If shit goes down…”

“Honey, I got you,” Quincey said after a moment, sobering. “Don’t get too in your own head, mmkay? Nothing’s going to happen, _but_ ,” he raised his voice like he could see the way Tora’d opened his mouth to interject, “if it does, I’ll call. Focus on that peach of an editor—I need her inspired when she gets back. Ciao,” and Tora heard a soft beep.

“Quince? Quincey.” He pulled the phone from his ear, huffing when he saw the man had ended the call.

He thought for a moment, sliding the device against his ass back into his pocket. Could’ve gone worse—least the man had seemed to understand the fuckin’ gravity of the situation. And he felt a little better knowin’ Quincey knew to contact him if he got word of anything Tora should have reason to worry about. As he turned back around toward the bakery, he frowned, his eyes falling on what seemed to be unfolding inside the shop. Poppy was talking to a man just a little taller than she was, his back to the door, arms folded. She was glaring at him, clutching a pastry box to her stomach and balancing two small brown bags on top of it against her chest, her face flushed, jaw set. _The fuck was goin’ on?_ Tora took a step forward just as the man threw his arms wide, gesturing to the side where Tora saw the woman from before looking on. The man took a step toward Poppy and Tora felt his chest seize, striding to the door in just a few paces, his eyes connecting with Poppy’s hard, something fierce in her gaze as she bore into him for a moment before glancing back at the man in front of her. Tora restrained himself from throwing the door to the shop open, didn’t wanna shatter the fuckin’ glass, and something told him that Poppy was okay, was handling whatever the fuck was goin’ on. She looked fuckin’ pissed. He thought back to her words in the car from earlier and to that first night at Chevy’s—her palm reaching out to the stool behind her, arm warm on his thigh as she leaned back against his chest. Handling the fucker who’d called her tattoo fake. Everything in Tora’s body was telling him that this was one of those moments where she didn’t need him, that look of utter fuckin’ determination on her face. Like hell, though, if he wasn’t gonna be her fuckin’ backup. He pulled the door open, fist tight on the handle, ducking slightly as he entered the shop before standing to his full height. He met her gaze again, the heat in her brown eyes practically glowing as he watched her lip twitch imperceptibly. _She leads ya follow_.

“—so, I really don’t understand, Poppy,” the man’s voice rose slightly in volume as he said her name, and Tora clenched his jaw, watching her for a cue. “How many times do I have to tell you it meant nothing! And don’t listen to her, Pops, she’s just sticking her nose in our business,” he shouted, gesturing again towards the woman in the corner of the shop who hadn’t said anything. _Our? The fuck?_ Tora could see from the corner of his eye that her arms were crossed across her chest, but he held Bobby’s stare, waiting. Her tiger, he’d do whatever the fuck she wanted, including standin’ the fuck down if that’s how she wanted to play this. “She wants to ruin what we have, baby.” _Baby?_ Tora’s eyes flashed as Bobby’s nostrils flared. _Who in the fuck—_

“Oh, bull _shit_ , Julri,” the woman in the corner piped up, walking closer to stand between the man and Bobby. _Julri_. Tora exhaled sharply, biting back a growl in his chest, his eyes wide on Bobby’s before she lowered her gaze slightly, pain flashing across her face. “I texted you so you’d see she’s moved the fuck on—so should you.”

Finally, Bobby blinked, looking back up at Tora, her eyes still heated, but a soft edge around her features at the woman’s words. He felt his lips part as she swallowed, the man shaking his head, “shut up, Mimi. Pops, I know that’s not—” he broke off suddenly, seemingly realizing that Poppy’s attention was focused elsewhere, and he turned around quickly, stumbling backwards once when his eyes fell on Tora. “Oh,” he gasped softly before trying to recover, “smoke shop’s down the street, pal,” he said, puffing his chest slightly. Tora cocked a brow at him, looking him up and down as he tilted his head. So, this was the fucker she'd needed to change her passcode over for some reason, who’d cheated on her, harassed her, shamed Bobby for her porn, her body…Tora felt his jaw clenching as he remembered the way she’d chucked her phone, the tears in her eyes as she’d apologized. Fuck, her _apologies_ , always sorry about her interests, desires, her body. The rage crept up his spine as Tora tried to fight it back, closed his eyes briefly against the memory of wiping Bobby’s blood from between her thighs— _sorry if I got any on you_. When he opened them, he glanced back up over the Julri fucker’s head, meeting Bobby’s eyes as she bit her lip, a small, pained smile on her face.

Tora felt his heart splitting open, the anger falling away down his back, a dull ache as he asked her softly, “this guy botherin’ ya, sweetheart.” He watched as her lips pulled up in recognition, her eyes lighting up as she pushed past her ex whose mouth had fallen open stupidly. But Tora only had eyes for her.

“No,” she said, slipping her hand into his as she passed him the box, the bags sliding into his chest, turning toward the door.

“Oh, so _I_ get to carry it,” he said, smirking, determined to make light of whatever the fuck had just happened. And he’d been worried about the fuckin’ _clan_. Hadn’t even considered this cocksucker’d be lurkin’ around her hometown.

“Well, you _do_ have all those muscles,” she smirked up at him, squeezing his bicep with her free hand as he turned to push out the door with his shoulder.

Before they could make it out the door, though, he heard the woman spit, “bet she put out for _him_.” He heard Poppy inhale, her shoulders tensing slightly under her baggy sweater, the high neckline drawing up to just beneath her chin at her movement.

“Pops?” the fucker gasped, “no way, she’s saving herself.”

Tora’s jaw tightened, eyes flashing as he met her gaze, shaking his head once, trying with all his might to restrain himself as he exhaled low. She tilted her head at him, sighing once before she squeezed his hand, her thumb brushing his. Without turning to look back, her eyes glued to Tora’s, she called clear as fuckin’ day, “go fuck yourself, Julri. No one else wants to.” She nodded her head toward the door for Tora to continue pushing back through it as he controlled his expression, not wanting to fuck up the punch she’d just landed. His nostrils flared, though, couldn’t help that. Fuck, he loved her. This fuckin’ ballsy, feisty hamster of a woman—wanted to kiss her right here, but that could wait. He let himself fall heavy against the door as he bit his lip, leading her out by the hand as they made their way back into the sunlight and over to the car where Tora could see Bull soakin’ up the rays in the passenger seat. A moment later, he felt her fingers on his ass and he glanced down at her in surprise, cocking an eyebrow, “shit, Bob, ready when ya are. So fuckin’ turned on right now ya have no idea,” he murmured, glancing at her as she broke into a laugh, the last of the tension leaving her body as her shoulders shook.

“Tora!” she smacked his arm playfully, her fingers still working at his ass, “I’m just giving your wallet back, you perv,” she teased, and he felt her slide it into his pocket.

“S’fine by me if ya wanna cop a feel, Bobby. No complaints here,” he smirked, squeezing her hand once as they made it to the driver’s side. He put the box with the bags on top of the roof and, as she made to pull her hand away, he tightened his grip, drawing their joined hands behind his back down above the grip of the gun, so that she nearly fell into his torso, her free hand steadying herself on his lower abs as he thumbed her jaw, fingers circling the back of her neck. He bent low, bringing his lips to hers, his tongue melting into her mouth as she moaned softly, her fingers tightening around his hand behind his back while her other fisted in the material of his shirt beneath his open hoodie. A moment later, he pulled away, breathing heavily as he opened the door for her, his eyes hot on hers. She climbed past him, ducking down into the car and reaching out to grab the handle, closing the door as Tora watched her through the window. As he scooped up the box off the roof, turning to walk around the hood of the car, his eyes found the fucker in the bakery, leveling him with a deadly glare, lips pulling down on his face, letting his brow settle heavy over his eyes. He’d fuckin’ kill him. The man visibly gulped before turning to talk to the woman, avoiding Tora’s stare as he made his way to the passenger side. He ducked down into the car, tucking the box and the bags along the dashboard as he shifted Bull out of the way, settling himself into the seat and rearranging his face.

“Couldn’t resist, huh?” she said, a smile on her voice as she waited for him to buckle, grabbing the box from the dashboard and turning to set it on the backseat behind them. He peered inside one of the bags, the scent of ham and melted cheese filling the car—fuck, he was hungry, hadn’t realized it before as his stomach growled loudly.

“Thought I did pretty well all things considered,” he glanced at her as he maneuvered Bull to rest in the dip between his thighs as he spread his legs. She smiled as she watched the display on the console, her tongue between her teeth as she carefully backed up out of the spot and onto the road. “So where to, Bobby? Fuckin’ famished,” he said, resting his elbow on the window as he peered up at the sky—how the hell was it so clear here? The city always seemed to have a haze hanging over it, smog catching the sunlight, filtering it into a cloud of purples and oranges. But here, shit, he could see birds like little white specks dipping above them. As he pressed his temple to the glass, he noticed for the first time that the color of the sky directly above them was deeper than the horizon where it faded to a paler blue. _How ‘bout that_.

“Mmm, I can hear that,” she laughed softly as his stomach growled again, turning down the music another notch as they approached an intersection.

She rolled almost to a stop before shooting through it and Tora smirked, “shit, Bobby. And here I thought ya were gonna school me on how to drive right. Ya know stop means stop, right? Ya worse than me.”

“ _Pfft_ , as if,” she drew out both words as she pressed on the gas, the trees on his side of the road cutting away to a green pasture where he could see cows lying in the distance.

“Bobby, Bobby,” he said, tapping her arm, “pull over real quick.”

“Again?” she asked, breathing a laugh as she slowed the car, pulling off onto the gravel shoulder, throwing the car in park and turning to look at him, both of her hands resting on top of the wheel, her eyebrows drawn up. Tora grinned at her, quickly throwing open the door, scooping Bull up to his chest and jogging to the edge of the field, leaning both his elbows on the top of the fence, gripping the dinosaur in both his hands. He waited until he could hear Bobby’s footsteps behind him. She stepped up to the fence, hoisting herself up onto the lower wooden rung so that she was almost the same height as him, leaning so that her arm pressed against his. “What are we doing?” she whispered, leaning her head close to his as he turned to peer at her from the corner of his eye, a smirk pulling at his mouth.

“Showin’ Bullshit his family,” he said, nodding out to the cows in the field.

Bobby threw her head back to the sky, laughing as she leaned her body away from the fence, gripping the top rung. “Tora, that’s ridiculous,” she wheezed, pulling herself back to press against his side as she looked over at him.

“Nah, name’s Bull, right?” he grinned, knew he must look fuckin’ goofy as shit but he couldn’t help it. Felt fuckin’ giddy around her. He _loved_ her. “Oi!” he shouted out across the field as Bobby gasped, one of her hands flying up to scrabble at his mouth.

“Tora! You’re going to scare them!”

“Nah, Bobby—look, they’re all lyin’ down and shit, nothin’ to worry ‘bout,” he lifted his chin away from her fingers, shouting out again, “Oi, Bullshit says hey!” A couple of the cows mooed low across the field as Bobby gasped around her laughter. Tora ducked his lead low to the plant in his hands, murmuring loud enough for Bobby to hear, “hear that, Bullshit? They say hi back.” He looked back out over the field, watching as one of the smaller cows with tufts of light brown and white hair made its way over to the fence, legs wobbling slightly under its body. Looked fuckin’ skinny—malnourished even. Why the fuck was it so tiny? Did it have a mother? Tora frowned as it approached.

“Awww,” Bobby sighed, smiling. “A baby,” she said, her hand resting on his forearm. _A baby? Huh_ , he didn’t think he’d ever considered what cows looked like before they were full grown. “Look, Bull,” she lowered her head, too, nodding toward the cow-baby, “it’s a calf, like you.”

“A calf? Like a leg?” Tora murmured, keeping his voice low as the calf-cow-baby drew up close to them, snuffling at the plant. Tora quickly drew Bullony away from it as the animal opened its mouth, “oh, shit!”

Bobby laughed beside him, removing her hand from his forearm to pat the calf-cow-baby’s nose. “Yeah, don’t let her eat Bull, she’ll get sick.”

Tora frowned—she was worried about the animal? _What about Bull?_ “Well, shit, Bobby. Don’t want _him_ eaten either.”

She smiled over at him, keeping her voice soft so as to not startle the animal. “Right, but he’d be fine. Resilient, remember?” Her eyes wandered over his expression, softening at whatever she saw. “You can cut his leaves to get at the aloe gel and he’ll grow them right back. But the latex is toxic,” she said, “it’s a yellow liquid between the gel and the leaf. Helps keep him safe from predators,” she said, smiling back at the animal as she pet its nose. “It’s like he’s got this tough exterior, but,” she reached over, moving Tora’s hand to one of the leaves and squeezing their fingers around it gently, “he’s soft, too. And the gel, the inside, it’s good for you.” Tora looked down at Bull as she pulled her fingers away. So, he was a tough little shit, huh. It figured that Bobby’d manage to find a tiny plant that could pack a punch. She nudged Tora’s elbow then, nodding toward the calf-cow-baby and Tora took a deep breath, shifting Bull to the top of the fence where he held the plant to his chest before reaching his other hand out slowly to the animal. He felt a small smile creep up his face—the nose was pink, specked with little black freckles, warm and damp, soft as velvet. The white hairs leading up its snout growing more coarse as he stroked his fingers in the direction of the roots.

“So, what’s the name, Bobby?” he asked, nodding toward the calf-cow-baby.

“I don’t know, what do you think?”

He smirked, “how ‘bout Plant?”

She turned to him, her hand stilling on the calf-cow-baby, her mouth falling open and her eyebrows pulling together in a look of confusion. “Whaaaa…?”

“Ya know, Bull’s already taken,” he said, overly-serious as he gestured toward the little dinosaur against his chest, “and since he already took their names,” he nodded out toward the pasture, the cows still laying out in the field, “figure it’s only fair.” She let out a long exhale through her nose, a silent laugh as she realized what he was getting at. “Yeah? Whaddaya think, Bobby?”

“How about at least Aloe? Plant is so…” she shrugged, “unspecific. Could be any plant.”

“Any plant, huh?” He nodded, thinking to himself, his throat tightening as an idea rooted in his brain, “what about Strawberry.”

He watched as her mouth fell open around a smile. “Strawberry,” she said softly, “I like that.” She turned back to the calf-cow-baby, lowering her head closer to the snout, “hey, girl,” she murmured, “you like the name Strawberry?”

Tora’s heart thrummed in his chest, almost painful as he listened to the soft chime of the car behind them, their doors still flung open against the wind that had died down to a gentle, rolling breeze. His stomach growled again, loud, trailing off into a gurgle as she laughed, nearly falling off the fence as he quickly reached out, grabbing her elbow to steady her. “So glad my hunger amuses ya, Bobby,” he deadpanned, reaching out to touch Strawberry on the head once more, her nose so soft, warm. Like everything Bobby touched, introduced him to. Another ray of light in his miserable, fucked up life. He’d been missing out on so much, how had he not even known?

He followed her back to the car as she called over her shoulder, “come on, let’s get you fed. I want to show you someplace special.”

“Oh yeah, Bobby? Thought the bakery was special, the cakes?”

“Oh, they are,” she said, nodding firmly as she climbed into the car, Tora right behind her as he ducked into the passenger seat. “They definitely are,” she nodded again as she buckled her seatbelt. “But there are a lot of special places here,” she said, checking her blind spot once before pulling out onto the road, picking up speed gradually as the tires kicked up dirt. Tora watched the soft cloud of it hang in the air behind them, obscuring his ability to see Strawberry as they drove away.

“How far away is it, Bobby,” he asked, the smell of the ham setting off another grumble in his stomach. Fuck, he was so goddamn hungry.

She laughed, “like a minute, trust me.”

“Trust ya, huh?” He laughed softly, “I do, sweetheart, I do.” As they turned around a bend in the road, Tora felt his smile freeze on his face, his thumb pause from where it’d been stroking the smooth ceramic of the pot in his lap. Felt his breath catch in his lungs at the sight of a gas station up ahead on the left. He licked his lips, would recognize it anywhere. Fuckin’ anywhere. Had been thinkin’ about it for years, the parking lot, the pumps burned into his mind. The girl on the bike. He glanced over at her quickly, swallowing. She didn’t seem to recognize it, didn’t seem to understand how significant this place was. He readied himself for her to pass it by, gulped as he heard her flick the turn signal on. Holy shit.

“We’re low on gas, you mind if we stop real quick?” _Stop real quick_.

He nodded, unable to speak as she turned into the lot, his eyes immediately pulling toward the corner beside the building and the fence where the pothole had been. Where she’d fallen, hadn’t even been able to offer her bandages. Poppy pulled up along the pump, and Tora exhaled shakily—same one he’d pulled up to in the van. She moved to unbuckle her seatbelt and Tora felt his hand reach over to stop her, shaking his head wordlessly as he handed Bull over to her, unbuckling himself and climbing from the car. He swallowed thickly, feelin’ like he was about to choke on his own goddamned tongue, as he walked back around the trunk and toward the pump, slowly pulling his wallet from his back pocket as he tried to focus on the display in front of him, the black numbers, his eyes pulling against his will down the street that intersected the one they’d just turned off of. The trees swooped over the houses the same way he remembered—so many fuckin’ trees. And he could hear the birds as he fumbled the card in his fingers, jamming it into the machine, his hand shaking slightly as he tried to calm his breathing. Wondered if the house was still yellow. More than that, wondered if Bobby knew about it. She’d said they were a minute away—had she been talkin’ about the fuckin’ gas station? They were near the woods, he thought, glancing to his left at the road they’d just come from, the trees denser. She’d mentioned the creeks, streams her father had taken her to— _there are a lot of special places here_. Maybe that’s what she’d been talkin’ about, Tora thought as he inserted the nozzle into the Lexus, bracing himself against the car with his other hand as he breathed deeply in through his nose, out through his mouth.

He vaguely registered the click of the pump, a moment later withdrawing the nozzle, resting it back in the cradle before twisting the cap back into place, patting the side of the car as he walked back around to the passenger door in a daze. When he’d climbed back in, he heard Poppy insert the key back into the ignition before her fingers were on his face. “Hey,” she said softly, “you okay? You look like you saw a ghost.”

Tora let out a shaky laugh as she handed Bull back to him, his fingers clutching the plant tightly. If she only knew, fuck. “Yeah, Bobby, I’m good. Just—” he broke off, inhaling deeply as she turned back to the windshield, pulling forward toward the side exit of the lot. He thought of what she’d told him that night she made him dinner, when she’d shared about her mom a little bit. “Ya know how sometimes ya can’t trust yourself? Like ya remember one thing, but ya mind twists it up, makes it into something it wasn’t? ‘Til ya don’t know what to think, what to make of it anymore.” She’d stopped the car, was looking at him as he stroked the leaves of the plant. He glanced over at her and she nodded.

“Yeah, I do.”

“S’like that,” he said finally, swallowing before turning to look out the passenger window, down the street where he knew the yellow house would be on the left-hand side. He waited for her to take a left back toward the main road, wherever the fuck she was takin’ ‘em. Maybe they could stop and see Strawberry one more time before headed back to the city, he thought. A moment later, he choked on his spit, his eyes widened as Bobby took a right, his lips parting, breath leaving his lungs as she drove them slowly up the street, his eyes flicking from house to house on the left, mouth running dry as he found it. Still fuckin’ yellow. The plants exploding from the front yard, though a little tamer than he remembered, the white flowers along the walk. Poppy rolled to a stop in front of the house on the opposite side of the street. His palms were so fuckin’ sweaty, slipping slightly on the smooth surface of the pot. He couldn’t fuckin’ breathe.

“We’re here,” she breathed, smiling out at the house before unbuckling and placing a hand on his forearm. “Come on.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WE HAVE ARRIVED WE HAVE ARRIVED WE HAVE ARRIVED I AM SO FUCKING EXCITED I AM SORRY FOR THE SHOUTING BUT I CANNOT HELP IT I AM SO FUCKING EXCITED GAAAAHHHHHHHH KITH KITH KITH KIIIIITH
> 
> Also sooooo Tora’s a plant daddy now, huh? 🌿 I’m not mad about it 😏
> 
> Thank you for your comments!!! I cry I cry (but good tears). I also lol at your impatience with my cliffhanging bullshit heehee (don’t fall)
> 
> ✨Come say hi on IG @melarela1223 where I post WIPs, inspo, and other random shit about Chasing Poppies and my other MPL fics✨
> 
> Ch. 34: 🍓🏡🐅 (parte 1)


	34. Take root

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tora and Poppy arrive at the yellow house.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y’all still on board this train to Fluff City? Don’t fall off just yet, we’ve got a little ways to go 😉
> 
> Alt title: "Come on"
> 
> As always, characters belong to the real MVP Lilydusk, brilliant creator of Midnight Poppy Land. Support her on Patreon! https://www.patreon.com/lilydusk

**Chapter 34**

Poppy rolled to a stop in front of the house on the opposite side of the street. Tora’s palms were so fuckin’ sweaty, slipping slightly on the smooth surface of the pot. He couldn’t fuckin’ breathe.

“We’re here,” she murmured, smiling out at the house before unbuckling and placing a hand on his forearm. “Come on.”

Tora felt himself nod, only vaguely registering the movement of his head on his neck, felt the Lexus dip down then up just slightly as Bobby pulled herself from the car, dipping back inside once to pull out the bag from underneath her seat before she closed the driver’s side door, moving to open the back seat. “You coming?” she asked, as she leaned over, fingers gripping the box, the bags, pulling it all toward her as she stood back up, peering in at him.

“Mhmm,” he grunted, fingers fumbling at the seatbelt as he unbuckled, clumsy against the door handle as he reached over, feeling for the metal without looking away from the yellow house, the white flowers. Even the fuckin’ front door looked the goddamned same. But maybe, he took a breath, maybe they were going to a different house, right? Maybe this was all just one giant fuckin’ coincidence. Poppy watched him as he stood from the car, gripping Bull firmly, fingers still slightly sweaty against the pot even though he’d wiped them on his jeans.

She gestured toward him with her head as he rounded the car, legs felt like he was underwater, but no, that wasn’t really it, was it—more like draggin’ dead weight underwater. Haulin’ bodies underwater, through a fuckin’ river. The heaviness pullin’ him down into the ground. He tripped lightly, catching himself and clutching Bull as he inhaled sharply. Bobby was digging in her bag, though, didn’t notice his stumble—her fist all caught up in the tight little compartment as she juggled the box in her other hand, the sandwiches sliding dangerously close to the edge. “Here, sweetheart,” he said, voice hoarse as he took the bottom of the box from her, letting the sandwiches slide into his chest. Listening to the crinkle of the plastic bag hanging from her finger as she finally dug out a set of keys, one of the gold condoms nearly falling out, as she quickly stuffed it away, her eyes going wide as she glanced up at him. He barked a laugh, feeling some of the tension leave his shoulders. _Ya with Bobby_ , he told himself. _Enjoyin’ the day with Bobby. Get ya head out ya ass_.

She bit her lip around a grin, laughing silently, shoulders shaking as she reached out and rested her hand on the back of his elbow, guiding him across the street as his heart pounded. Took in every crack in the pavement they crossed over, focusing his attention on placing one foot in front of the goddamned other. He swallowed, throat thick with mucus as she led him toward the empty driveway. “Bobby,” he said, his eyes on the dark windows of the house, the lace curtains in the windows, “where we goin’.” Wasn’t a question, he fuckin’ knew where they were goin’. Just had to hear her say it, needed her to confirm to him that this wasn’t all in his fuckin’ head. 

“I wanted to show you something,” she said, leading him up the drive and to the side, the long stretch of white flowers that lined the pavement. Suddenly, her hand had left his elbow, was sliding down his hip, his thigh, wrapping around his calf as she crouched, squeezing his leg as she looked up at him. She patted the ground with her other hand, the plastic bag smacking it hollowly, one of the corners of the pink box perforating the double-bagging slightly—just a hint of color through the thin white plastic. Tora let himself sink to the ground, heels flat on the cement, could feel little rocks under the soles of his sneakers as he felt Bobby’s hand move to his knee, squeezing slightly before her hand was brushing out over the tops of the flowers. A couple bumblebees rose up into the air, buzzing faintly over the sound of a bird cooing in one of the nearby trees, sounded like it was cryin’ almost—a long call. Poppy looked up briefly at the sound, smiling before glancing at Tora. “I miss the sounds of nature,” she said, “the sounds of the earth, you know? The city’s nice, but…” she sighed.

“Yeah,” he said, his voice almost breaking. He quickly shut his mouth, knew what she meant. Had felt it all those years ago out here and the few times he’d been back. Could hardly speak though, turning back to the flowers, watching her hand as she absently stroked over the tops of the white blooms. Many of the petals had fallen—they looked like they were dying, but he remembered what the woman had said in the greenhouse, _out of season_. Bobby’d said summer was strawberry season—did that mean they died and came back to life every year? Could flowers do that? He opened his mouth to ask her but couldn’t get any sound up. Fuck. Maybe he’d try again later.

“I planted these,” she said finally, and Tora felt something fall into place in his chest. Just like that. She was the one. The strawberry girl. Had to be. Not a fuckin’ coincidence. His eyebrows pulled up to the center of his face as Quincey’s words came back to him, _may be a coincidence that you two met when you were kids. But I don’t think it’s a coincidence you met again as adults_. Fuck, how—

He turned to look at her, really look at her. This woman he loved who, years ago had talked to him like a friend, brought him to her house without a second thought, hadn’t asked for anythin’ from him, had thanked him for walkin’ her home. Thanked him with a strawberry juice. He didn’t like sweet shit, but the taste wasn’t half bad, had grown on him. A fuckin’ symbol for a normal life. A life with plants and birds, trees on the fuckin’ streets and space to breathe. To fuckin’ breathe. He could breathe with her, his Bobby. This woman he loved. She was everythin’—could she see that?

She held up the leaves of the plants with her palm, cupping them gently away from the ground as she set the plastic bag down beside her, using her free hand to pull a worm off one of the berries that rested on the soil at the edge of sunlight and shadow. Its body, slick, bits of the dirt sticking to it as the thing curled up in on itself in her hand where she cradled it. She smiled, laying the worm down more directly under the leaves of the plant, tucking it against the stems where it began to burrow into the soil.

“Whatcha doin’, Bobby,” he asked softly, his voice thick.

“Moving him a little further under the leaves,” she said softly, as though not wanting to disturb it. “Granny has a family of robins living out back. He’s gonna get eaten if they find him.”

Tora frowned. “Ya Granny?”

“Oh, yeah. Sorry,” she said, shaking her head and laughing at herself, “don’t know why I assumed you…this is my Granny’s house.” She gestured to their left, up the driveway and toward the yellow house. “She’s visiting my cousins over the weekend, but I have a key.” She turned back to the plants in front of them as Tora again wondered how she could be so open with him, so welcoming. Three weeks ago, they hadn’t even known each other, unless— “We planted these strawberries years ago,” she said, shaking her head again, thinking, “my dad’s favorite.”

“Yeah, remember ya mentioned that,” he murmured. He had the urge to reach out and stroke the plants, mirror her movements, but between Bull and the box with the cakes and the sandwiches, he didn’t have a free hand. He considered putting Bull on the ground but just couldn’t, his fingers glued to the little pot, index finger stroking the smooth ceramic. “I think it must’ve been right after we moved from the city—Granny’d been living out here in Moonbright. My dad grew up here. I guess I kind of did, too,” she said, glancing at the house. “But anyway,” she said, taking a deep inhale as though shaking herself from deep in her memories, “I wanted to show you the strawberries, the garden,” she said gesturing behind them at the yard where bushes pushed against the fence, flowers in every nook and cranny along the house. “Plants can be real tough cookies, Tora,” she said, glancing down at Bull and then back up at his face. _Tough cookies?_ “These strawberries started as one little plant in the corner by the house, and look now,” she said, sweeping her hand along the tops of them, the rounded leaves, deep green against the few remaining white petals, dots of red along the ground where some berries still hung, small.

“You give ‘em love,” he asked, less a question and more a statement. He already knew the answer. Course she gave ‘em love—her finger so gentle as she’d picked up the fuckin’ worm. She gave and she gave and she gave, how the fuck had he gotten so fuckin’ lucky to have met her not once but twice in his life? And why the hell had she chosen him?

“Mmm,” she hummed, nodding. “They learn to grow on their own. They take root and flourish.”

“All of ‘em?” He glanced down at Bull—she’d _just_ said that he could get hurt. What was different about the plants that lived outside?

“Remember what I told you at the bar?” she asked.

He thought for a moment, nodded. “Different plants, different needs.”

“Right. So long as you give them what they need, a lot of them take care of the rest on their own. They _want_ to live, you know? They fight to survive.” She reached over and stroked one of Bull’s leaves, letting her fingers trail up and over Tora’s forearm before she reached to pick up the plastic bag beside her, standing up and holding her hands out to him, “you want me to take the box?”

He smiled, “thought that was my job, sweetheart. On account of my guns,” he said, the smile immediately slipping from his face as he nearly choked on the word. He watched as her lips parted, knew she was thinkin’ of his actual guns, too, same as him. Could feel the weight of the weapon tucked along his back—she’d touched him plenty around the waist since they’d left the city. Had she felt it? Sometimes it felt so natural to him, the metal and plastic piece warming against his skin, like another limb. Like it belonged there, a growth off his fuckin’ spine. Even if she hadn’t felt it today, she must know he was carryin’, right? He’d told her about the guns in his car, and hell, even though it wasn’t his car they were drivin’, he still had the fuckin’ weapons. And his car—he’d told her about the blood. She knew all that, right? Had accepted it?

“Mmm,” she hummed softly, her eyes roaming his face for a moment before she reached out her hands. He cocked an eyebrow at her, and she shrugged, “I’m strong, too.”

He huffed a laugh through his nose, nodding. She wasn’t wrong. “Why don’t ya take the sandwiches so they don’t fall,” he said, taking a step toward her as she reached out and took the bags from the top of the box. “We get to eat soon? I’m fuckin’ starvin’, Bobby,” he said, pulling the corners of his mouth up as she nodded, turning toward the house.

“Soon.”

“Dunno, Bob. Ya sure? We been all over this town,” he smiled at her as they made it to the door, his heart beginning to thrum at his throat again.

“Oh, that’s where you’re mistaken,” she said lightly. “There are lots of special places left to go.”

He listened to the click of the lock as a car passed down the street behind them and Tora held his breath as she pushed open the door to the yellow house. Though the lights were off inside, the house was illuminated with sunlight from the kitchen he could see at the back through an archway just beyond a set of stairs that led up to the second story. She toed off her shoes and he followed suit, shifting Bull to the top of the pastry box before turning to lock the door behind him and bending down to grab his sneakers as he’d seen Bobby do with her own. He followed her straight back through a room with a table and chairs to the kitchen where she dropped her shoes by a small glass sliding door that looked out over a backyard lush with plants—almost more untamed than the front yard—the edge butting up directly with the woods. Tora ducked lightly into the kitchen—the ceilings were low, but it didn’t feel claustrophobic in the way that some places made him panic. _Cozy_ , he realized, as he took in all the little trinkets, the family memories captured as photographs that littered every surface, the love practically spilling from the shelves of the house. He walked up to the counter where she stood, spotting a framed picture in the corner next to the sink beside a small bouquet of flowers—all different colors, like they’d been picked from the front yard. Poppy smiling up at him from the frame, an older woman’s arms wrapped around her torso. In the photo, Poppy didn’t look much younger than she did now—looked fairly recent, though her cheeks seemed hollow. Would be difficult to pinch ‘em, and he loved pinchin’ ‘em, he thought with a small smile.

Poppy placed the sandwiches on the counter and reached over to pick up the vase with the flowers, grabbing the stems in one fist as she removed them from the glass, pouring out the old water before flipping on the tap, refilling it. “You can set those down wherever,” she murmured to him, nodding at the box in his hand, Bull in his other, before turning her attention back to the vase, carefully poking the stems back inside and positioning the bouquet back against the photo. “That’s Granny,” she said, pointing at the older woman, turning to look at him and smiling. Even if she hadn’t told him where they were, who the woman was, he would’ve known. Clearly, the genes in her family were real fuckin’ strong. He’d thought she looked a lot like the photo of her dad on the fridge, but the woman holding her in a hug looked like what he imagined Poppy might some decades in the future. Would he know what she’d—he swallowed, not letting himself finish that thought. Hadn’t even known her three weeks ago. Was gettin’ way the fuck ahead of himself.

“Ya look alike,” he smiled at her, reaching out and pinching her cheek.

“Thanks,” she said softly, glancing back once at the frame before turning to face him. She held the plastic bag behind her slightly as she looked up at him, “I’m gonna run to the bathroom, but make yourself at home. Glasses are in the cupboard above the sink, juice is in the fridge,” she said as she skirted around him, backing out of the room and through the entryway. He frowned—if she was tryin’ to be discreet about the fuckin’ bag, she was failing miserably at it. Tora sighed, glancing around the kitchen for a moment before he heard her footsteps quickly running back to him, her head popping around the corner of the arch a moment later, “and don’t touch your sandwich yet. We’re not eating here.”

“Bobby, are ya—”

“Ah, ah, I’ll be right back,” she said quickly, disappearing around the corner again as he stood in the middle of her grandmother’s kitchen holding his shoes, his mouth open in shock.

He shook his head, “the fuckin’ _balls_.” Tora sighed, moving toward the glass door where he placed his shoes beside hers, allowing himself a moment to smile at the image of their sneakers. How were her feet so fuckin’ tiny? About fully half the size of his. _Pfft_. He gazed out at the yard, could hear that one bird through the glass of the door. Watched as the plants around the small wooden deck swayed in the breeze, fat bumblebees lazing through the air, flitting from bloom to bloom. So fuckin’ peaceful. His eyes were drawn to the tree line, skimming up and down the trunks, willing himself to put aside all his training, all the conditioning that made him paranoid about who might be lurking at every turn, watching. Tora turned from the door, breathing the smell of ham and cheese that had drifted over to him as he made his way to the fridge—she’d said there was juice. His mouth parted and he inhaled sharply at one of the photos beside the handle.

A girl, short brown hair that stuck to the skin around her forehead along a faint line of dirt imprinted from where he knew the helmet—dirty white with strawberry stickers, tucked up under her arm—had pressed against her skin. Tora felt his throat closing as his vision blurred over her smile, triumphant in the driveway, her white bike on the ground beside her as she held her palms open in front of her, half bent at the waist as she gestured toward the scrapes on her knees. He looked to the edge of the photo, quickly returning to her face when he realized he’d been searching for a glimpse of the white van. That was fuckin’ stupid though—the gas station wasn’t even visible from the angle of the photo. Still, his eyes drew to the street behind her, like maybe he’d see himself returning the way he’d came. Looked like she hadn’t yet cleaned out the scrapes, like he maybe had just left.

He took a shaky breath, blinking a couple times to clear his sight, focusing on her eyes—Bobby’s eyes. Warm and wide, full of joy and pride. Determination. _Her tricks, pfft_ , he laughed to himself remembering the way she’d told him about her wheelies. So, it’d been real. She’d been real. Hadn’t made it up—fuck, she even looked the same as he’d remembered, but her face, which had grown fuzzy in his memory, it was so obvious now, looking at the photo. So obvious it was Bobby. How’d he not seen it before? _A good egg._

Tora reached a hand toward the photo, hesitating a moment before pressing his lips together, clenching his jaw as he touched his finger to her face. He let out a small breath through his nose.

“Ah, you found me,” she said from behind him, a smile on her voice as she padded over to stand beside him, leaning her head against his bicep as she folded her arms across her chest. “I look like quite the daredevil, huh,” she laughed softly, shaking her head against him as he felt himself frown at the photo— _she didn’t know_. “But really it was just a lot of me falling.”

He thought of his hand on her elbow, reaching out to help her. Picking up her bike. Her unshed tears, the look of determination on her face. “And getting back up?”

She tilted her head to look up at him, “oh wow, like a motivational poster or something,” she grinned. “Maybe that’s your calling,” she said, clearly trying to contain a laugh as he rolled his eyes, “not comedy. Greeting card writer.”

“ _Pfft, pfft_ , yeah. Ya think ya so funny, huh.” He shook his head, pulling his lips up, shoving the disappointment back down in his chest. It didn’t matter if she didn’t remember. Sure, it’d been important to him, but fuck, she’d just been a kid attempting wheelies in a parkin’ lot. Clearly, hadn’t even been the only time she’d fallen. “Ya look real proud of yaself there,” he said, nodding toward the photo.

She laughed, “I mean, it’s not every day that you do your first wheelie.”

He bent at the waist as he laughed, letting the tension leave his body, the weight falling off his shoulders at the force of the memory, the details coming back to him surrounded by the house, by Bobby. She’d said that, hadn’t she. “Ya did a wheelie, Bobby? For real?” _She hadn’t been shittin’ him?_

“I mean, it was only one time. And I fell. And I wasn’t ever able to do it again, so you could call it…”

“A fuckin’ miracle,” he supplied, grinning down at her as she elbowed his side.

“I was going to say a coincidence,” she huffed as he laughed. “Come on,” she opened the fridge, reaching in and grabbing two boxes of juice, bright strawberries printed on the sides. “You grab those,” she nodded toward the sandwiches. “Bull will be okay here,” she said, smiling softly at him as he brushed his fingers over the plant. Yeah, he knew he’d be okay here. The house didn’t have nearly the same amount of plants inside as Bobby had at her apartment, but every corner of it radiated warmth. He picked up the sandwiches, following her to the glass door where they both toed on their sneakers, leaning over her to grip the door handle and slide it open for her. “You know, I’m a pro at the sliding kind,” she shrugged, teasing. “Can only go one way.”

“Mhmm, not takin’ any chances, sweetheart,” he smiled at her as she stepped out onto the wooden porch, making her way down the couple of short steps into the yard, the wood creaking as she descended.

“Bobby, the door,” he called after her, the fingers of his left hand gripped around the handle as he closed it behind him. “Ya got a key? We should lock it.”

“Oh, it’s fine. Granny hardly ever locks it.” Tora frowned—didn’t like that at all. Sure, it was a nice area, peaceful. Small town. But shit, it was right down the street from a gas station where anyone might stop while passin’ through. Fuck, he knew good as anyone that bad shit, bad people could find their way here. He certainly had. She turned to look up at him from the bottom of the steps where she was struggling with one of the straws of the juice boxes. Tora huffed a laugh through his nose at the look of determination, her face slightly flushed, almost the color of the box. Wasn’t gonna let clan shit ruin their day. It’d be fine, he told himself. Fuckin’ fine. “Oi, how come ya get to eat now but I don’t,” he said as he moved down the steps, smirking as she finally stabbed the plastic through the foil hole.

“Mmm?” she asked innocently, her lips around the little white straw, cheeks sucking in slightly before she smiled at him, her eyes crinkling at the corners. _Too goddamn fuckin’ cute_ , he thought, shaking his head.

“I at least get a sip?” he asked as she tucked the other juice box under her arm, a moment later slipping her fingers between his as she led him past another thatch of white flowers Tora recognized immediately as strawberries.

She sighed dramatically, holding the box toward his face and angling the straw to his mouth. “I guess.”

Tora bent, holding her gaze as he slipped his tongue under the straw—the memory of that day ten years ago flooding his mouth, his senses, at the tart flavor—didn’t think any other kind he’d tried compared to it. Not even the fancy shit from the liquor store. She smirked at him as he pulled back up. “S’good, Bobby,” couldn’t keep the grin off his fuckin’ face as her smirk pulled up into a smile, beaming up at him as she squeezed his hand, her thumb stroking the skin along his index finger as she led him toward the woods. As they reached the tree line, the grass where they walked grew more and more tamped down, and Tora could see the dirt poking through in some places, well-worn. “Ya come out here a lot?” he asked, turning his gaze toward her out of the corner of his eye as she nodded, sipping the juice.

“Mhmm. I know you’re a city boy, but you ever been deep in the woods?”

Tora tilted his head—he had. But no way was he tellin’ her the kind of shit that brought him periodically into the dense forest on the bank of the river opposite the city skyline. To the shadowy mansion above the city. “Not for long,” he said finally, swallowing against the strawberry flavor that had settled into the grooves along the roof of his mouth. He pressed his tongue to them, chasing the taste of her.

She nodded as they wound their way down the path—clearer now without any grass, a clear trail through the trees where the bushes hung over and around their shoulders, Tora frequently ducking to avoid stray branches and twigs. Every couple of paces, they’d step over roots that peeked up from the ground. The barely contained sense of wilderness increasing as they made their way deeper into the trees, the sounds of the dry leaves of the trees brushing together, birds calling and taking flight the only sounds besides the crunch of leaves underfoot as they walked hand-in-hand. “So then, you know how peaceful it can be.”

He frowned, eyes flicking around the trees, the trunks growing wider in circumference from the ones that had lined the backyard of the yellow house. The sunlight filtered through the red and gold canopy overhead and when he glanced over at Poppy, it looked like the shadows of the leaves danced along her braids. Well, shit. _Now_ he did. He clenched his jaw, looking back out at the path in front of them, tilting his head toward her as he angled his shoulder around a branch with red and green shiny leaves growing out of it. Poppy gasped, her fingers slipping from his hand and darting out to catch the wrist of his other arm as he made to lift it out of the way with his elbow. “Poison ivy,” she said, softly, nodding at the leaves. “Want to be careful about which plants you touch. Don’t want you getting a rash,” she smiled. Tora glanced back at the leaves as she carefully maneuvered him around the branch. _Poison?_ Shit didn’t _look_ dangerous, how the fuck was he supposed to know?

“How…” he trailed off, glancing over at her.

“Granny taught me all about the plants back here. Which ones to avoid, which ones were safe. I think she was worried what’d happen if I got lost,” she shrugged. “Or maybe she just didn’t want me getting hurt. One of the perks of being small, though,” she smiled, gesturing toward the branches and vines on her side of the path that dipped above her head—most of which didn’t even come close to brushing against her. “Easier to avoid danger,” she laughed.

Tora huffed a laugh through his nose—if only her logic applied outside the woods, back in the city. Not just with fuckin’ plants. “So how d’ya tell which ones are which,” he asked, carefully angling his face around a branch—were those leaves shiny?

She tilted her head, thinking. “I don’t know. Practice, I guess. Experience.” Poppy looked up at him before nodding toward a tree to his left where he saw more of the shiny red-green leaves growing from the bark around the base of the trunk. “Fell into a patch of poison sumac once,” she said, shaking her head and widening her eyes, seemingly at the memory.

He shook his head, frowning at the tree. “Thought ya said it was poison _ivy_ , Bobby. The fuck is a sumac?”

“Oh, it’s just a different plant in the same genus,” she said, turning her head as though searching for something in the trees off to her right. “They’re everywhere, I’ll show you when I see one next.”

“Next?” he wondered aloud. “Like, ya’ve seen ‘em already?”

“Mhmm,” she nodded, her fingers slipping back between his and stroking his index finger again.

“How much poison’s out here, Bob? Where the fuck ya bringin’ me,” he laughed, only half-joking. Danger all around, his senses on high fuckin’ alert.

She snorted, “don’t worry, you’re not in any danger,” she reassured him, squeezing his hand. _Pfft_ , wasn’t worried about himself, shit. “They’re not actually poisonous, the leaves produce an oil that’s mildly toxic—you get a rash on contact. Can be painful.” Tora nodded slowly, thinking it over as she continued. “It’s funny, once you’ve been hurt, your body learns pretty quick what danger looks like, what to avoid.” She shrugged, turning back to face him. He swallowed hard at that, the injury in his back twinging at his shoulder blades, suddenly very aware of the sutures along his quad—had almost forgotten they were there.

“Yeah, I get that,” he said softly, listening to a bird cry out from somewhere behind them—the same low call from when they’d first arrived at the house.

“There,” she said suddenly, pointing up around a bend where Tora could hear the trickle of water. A small, wooden bridge, old railings made of what looked to be rotting two-by-fours held up moss-covered beams. A rusted tin roof, flat over the top. She pulled him more firmly, eager as they approached, the path dipping down to a creek that ran between the trees. Tora let her lead him up onto the bridge, pausing before putting his foot on the first step, her fingers slipping from his for a moment as he tested his weight.

“Ya sure this is a good idea, Bobby?” he asked, glancing up to the underside of the roof, eyes catching on the spiderwebs along the exit on the other side of the bridge, a bunch of twigs shoved up into the small space at the corner where one of the beams met the metal. “Don’t wanna break ya bridge. I’m a big boy,” he smirked at her as she curled her fingers under his, lifting him up the step and onto the wooden planks, leading him to the railing where she placed the juice boxes.

“Positive. My dad built this when he was a teenager,” she said, glancing up to smile at his expression which had fallen open. _Her father?_ Tora felt like he was seeing the bridge for the first time as he looked it over again, the nails that poked through the boards, the wood splintering around the rusted heads, old but holding fast.

“No shit.”

“Yes shit,” she smiled, smoothing a palm lightly over the wood. His eyebrows shot up at the swear and she laughed before nodding at the sandwiches in his hand. He handed one over to her and watched as she carefully folded the paper down, revealing the bread where cheese had melted over the sides. “We used to get these all the time,” she said, waiting as Tora unwrapped his own, taking a bite. He groaned, letting his head fall forward as he rested his elbows on the railing, hunched over at its low height.

“Holy fuck, that’s good,” he said, his mouth full as she laughed again, bringing her arms up to rest beside his and taking her own bite.

“I know, right.” Tora turned his gaze out to the creek that ran below them, listening to the water bubble over the smooth stones, could see flashes of shiny coins wedged between them at the bottom, glinting up at them through the water. The bird calling again from back the way they’d came through the trees. “He was a good guy,” she said, and Tora turned to see her smiling softly, looking out at the creek. “He would’ve liked you,” she nodded. Tora felt his eyebrows draw up his head at that—she couldn’t be serious.

“Not so sure, Bobby,” he said, sighing. “Can’t imagine ya old man bein’ so keen on ya thug friend.”

She turned to look at him, something unreadable in her eyes, safely guarded. A moment passed as she held his gaze. “No. I know he would.”

Tora frowned slightly, something had shifted—didn’t know what, though. Maybe it was that sadness again, the kind he’d sensed in her before. Recognized it in himself. The darkness that saturated his lungs, weighted down by it.

She looked back down at the water then, leaning over the edge as she took another bite of her sandwich, a smile pulling at the corners of her mouth. Tora mirrored her movements as he followed her gaze back to the coins. “All our wishes,” she said, nodding down at them. “When he died, I was so mad. Wasn’t fair.” She shook her head. “He was still so young, never smoked a day in his life. Lung cancer,” she murmured, her jaw tightening as Tora took a deep breath. Fuck. So that was why she cared so much. “Granny blamed herself, and I think a part of me did, too,” she rubbed her hand along the wrapping of the paper. “At least at first. I’d come down here and sit alone, looking at our wishes. My wishes.” She swallowed. “From when he was in the hospital. Almost picked them all out of the creek after he died. Was so angry. None of them’d worked,” she said, shaking her head. “Stupid.”

“Poppylan,” he swallowed. Hadn’t expected this. Any of it. _Shit, why did she like comin’ back here?_ he thought before his mind wandered to Regina’s Peak. Joe’s hands on his shoulders, the two of ‘em lookin’ out over the guardrail. The city below. _A little galaxy_ , she’d said when he’d shared it with her. _A whole world down there, so small from up here_. The coins in the water below them, when he squinted they almost looked like stars. Shit, maybe he did understand why she came here. Why she’d taken him here. “S’not stupid, sweetheart.”

She tilted her head until he felt the weight of her head against his shoulder, her braid pillowing between them as he rested his cheek against her hair. “Yeah, I know. Didn’t know it then, but I do now.” He listened to her breathe for a moment, the sound of the creek below them, tried to imagine the water spiriting away her sadness, his. “And I’m only angry sometimes,” she said, a smile in her voice as she sighed.

“How’d ya do it,” he whispered, his voice raw. “How’d ya let go of it.”

Without moving her head, she switched her sandwich to her right hand, maneuvering her left arm into the space between his torso and his right elbow, slipping her hand into his, her fingers warm, soft. “I don’t know if I did,” she said, shaking her head slow against him, her temple rolling on the curve of his shoulder. “Not sure it’s ever something that’ll leave completely, you know? It’s a part of me. Of course I’m angry he’s gone—I miss him every day, but it’s not…” she paused, searching for her words as Tora swallowed, waiting. “It’s not all-consuming. I can breathe again.”

He thought about that for a minute. _All-consuming_. Fuck. He squeezed her hand, closing his eyes as she stroked his finger. He breathed in her sweet scent, mixed with the earthy smell of the woods, the damp leaves that lay beneath the dried ones, freshly fallen from the trees overhead. The bird, though still calling softly, had moved closer to them, could hear its song echoing through the trees to his left. For so long his anger had driven him, buried inside, always just below the surface, ready to rip up his spine—was there another way?

“But to your question, at least…what I _think_ you’re getting at,” he felt her shift her head slightly against his arm, her hair moving against his cheek, “it takes time. It’s been six years and I still wake up in tears some mornings. Sometimes I’m not sure why, it’s just this…this cloud. Other times it’s because of a dream, climbing trees with him and then suddenly…not.” Tora opened his eyes, blinking up at the golden canopy above them, the breeze carrying leaves away from them like feathers. Could hear some of them settling on the roof of the bridge before blowing off the edge, down into the creek. “When waking up feels like he’s drifting away all over again, you know.”

He nodded his head. Thought he knew what she was sayin’—wasn’t sadness he woke up to most days. But the anger, the panic at the back of his throat in the moments between sleep and waking—that in-between state, where it felt like he was trapped underwater, pushing up from beneath rocks, where he couldn’t separate past from present. Was all too familiar with that.

“How long has it been?” she asked softly. Tora swallowed, knew what she was asking. He licked his lips against the sudden dryness of his mouth, his tongue. The warmth of the ring around his finger.

“‘Bout the same as ya dad, little less,” he murmured, turning his head to press his lips to the top of her hair. “Feels like yesterday sometimes.”

“Mmm,” she nodded against him. “I’m here if you want to talk about it,” she said finally. Tora took a deep inhale, holding his breath in his lungs, his eyebrows pulling to the center of his face as he closed his eyes again, the warmth of her hand in his, the insides of their forearms pressed together. Just him and Bobby in this moment, surrounded by wilderness, standing on the bridge her dad built, her past wishes in the creek below. The sound of the bird, swooping low overhead.

“I love ya, Bobby.” She squeezed his hand, her fingers tightening between his knuckles, so fuckin’ tiny, so strong. They breathed against each other for another moment before she moved against him. Tora lifted his head up, looking over at her.  
  
“Want to do something,” she said, balling the paper from her sandwich and balancing it on the wooden railing before she pulled her hand from his, turning to unzip her bag. He watched her curiously as she shoved her hand inside, digging around.

“Careful, Bobby,” he smirked at her, “don’t wanna lose any of those condoms.”

She huffed a laugh, “no, wouldn’t want that. Then we’d only be left with, what, a hundred?” He let his head fall forward as he laughed. Fuck, she was somethin’ else. “Come on,” she said a moment later, grabbing his hand and picking up the paper, the juice boxes as Tora balled up his own trash, shoving the paper in his pocket.

“Oi, Bobby,” he said, nodding at the unopened juice box in her arm as she led him from the bridge. “Whaddaya say, I get my juice now?”

She sighed through her nose, pinching the juice between her thumb and index finger, something else he couldn’t see tucked against her palm. “Here, you thug,” she smirked up at him, “drink your juice.”

“Fuckin’ feisty,” he muttered, taking it from her and poking the straw through the hole when she released his hand, rounding the bridge and moving toward the creek. He watched her, tilting his head as he took a sip. _The hell was she doin’?_

“You coming?” she asked, turning to face him from the edge of the creek, “or are you scared of getting a little wet?”

“ _Pfft_ , Bobby, s’definitely not one of the things I’m scared of,” he smirked, walking over to her as he lifted his feet around loose rocks. Could feel the bank of the creek soft underneath the thin layer of leaves on the ground. His sneakers sunk softly with each step, the ground giving way as though he were walking on mud. Probably _was_ mud, he figured, peering around as he came to stand beside her.

“There are things that scare _you_ , Tora the Boss-Level Thug?” she asked, looking up at him.

He frowned, meeting her gaze, “course, Bobby.” Didn’t mean he let it control him, but shit, it was only stupid motherfuckers who weren’t scared of shit. And he sure as shit wasn’t fuckin’ stupid. Least not when it came to survival. She regarded him for a second, her eyes flicking back and forth between his, a breeze blowing loose strands of hair around her braids. He watched as her eyes dipped to the crest on his neck, could practically feel her fingers on his scars at the memory of her kitchen floor, the steps on the streets of the city. Could feel the patch moving against his skin as he swallowed. “Whatcha got there, sweetheart,” he said, nodding toward her hand as he took another sip of juice. Anything to distract her from the question he knew she’d been wondering, the shit he’d said he’d tell her some other time. The shit that gave him nightmares, had left him in a cold sweat in her bed. _Skin-to-skin_.

“Here,” she said, holding out her hand as he reached for her. A moment later, he felt something warm, slightly heavy drop into his palm. _Pfft_ , _figured_. “Oh yeah? What we wishin’ on, Bobby?”

She smiled, looking at him from the corner of her eye as she turned to face the creek again. “That’s up to you to decide.”

He nodded, thinking back to the car ride, the bridge that spanned the Narin River. _The ritual of the thing. The point when you decide for yourself_ , she’d said. _Can’t lie to yourself after that_. He swallowed, looking down at the clear water as it bubbled over the gray-brown rocks, the yellow-green moss slick with it. Her past wishes tucked into the crags between the stones. Poppy held her hand out above the water and he watched as she closed her eyes tight, her chest rising on an inhale as she breathed deep, the braids cascading down her back. This strong hamster of a woman who’d just admitted her disappointment with the wishin’, her father having died in spite of all the coins she’d emptied into the creek beneath the bridge he’d built…and here she was, still believin’. _You have to do the work to make it come true_. Fuck. He held his fist out over the water, mirroring her stance, Joe’s ring catching a ray of sun just before he closed his eyes.

_Forever. Ya want this forever._

He heard a soft plunk as she dropped her coin in the water. On an exhale, he opened his fist, a drop of water hitting his hand as the coin hit the surface, sinking quickly to the bottom and sliding into another one, tinged blue with time.

When he looked up at her, she was staring at him, hard. Her jaw set. Could tell she was steeling herself, making a decision. Had already made it, just needed to speak it into existence. Her eyes flicked between his as she worried her lip between her teeth. Tora tilted his head, turning toward her and extending his hand, fingers stretched out to her, “Bobby?”

Her throat rippled as she swallowed, taking a shaky breath. Her voice soft against the sound of the creek, the rustle of the leaves, the cry of the bird. “You’ve been here before, haven’t you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heehee I’m so goddamn excited 
> 
> Thank you for your comments!!! They mean the world to me and I'm so happy you're still hanging in there with me :)
> 
> ✨ Come say hi on IG @melarela1223 where I post WIPs, inspo, and other random shit about MPL and my fics ✨
> 
> Ch. 35: 🍓🏡🐅 (parte 2)


	35. Strawberry Girl

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A mystery comes to a close?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I fuckin loved writing this chapter so much. I hope y'all enjoy 😘😘😘😘🍓🍓🍓🍓
> 
> As always, characters belong to the real MVP Lilydusk, brilliant creator of Midnight Poppy Land. Support her on Patreon! https://www.patreon.com/lilydusk

**Chapter 35**

Tora tilted his head, turning toward her and extending his hand, fingers stretched out to her, “Bobby?”

Her throat rippled as she swallowed, taking a shaky breath. Her voice soft against the sound of the creek, the rustle of the leaves, the cry of the bird. “You’ve been here before, haven’t you.”

Tora pressed his lips together, his tongue flat against the roof of his mouth, stroking the ridges, the taste of strawberry juice and the salt of the sandwich like a balm to his nerves. Found his fingers twitching as he rubbed his thumb against the fingertips of his outstretched hand. “Course I have, Bobby,” he said, trying to keep his voice light. “S’a small town, but I’ve passed through a couple times.” 

A moment passed, the dry brush of leaves picking up on a breeze, the reds and golds swirling up around their feet before settling along the gurgling of the creek. “No, not Moonbright.” She shook her head, hands by her sides, one still clutching her empty juice, the wrapper of the sandwich she used to get with her father—his favorite, the bridge behind Tora built by the man. This place—everything about it—was fuckin’ special to her. Precious. Was a good chance, Tora realized, that her dad had touched some of the coins that lay just a breath away from them at the edge of the water. Couldn’t deny her this, not here. Tora opened his mouth to answer her, but she continued, “I’m not wrong, I know I’m not. Can feel it my gut.” She brought her fist to her stomach, the empty wrappings clutched tight in her fingers. “Your eyes.”

He lifted his head as he inhaled, his eyes glued to her stare, couldn’t look away. The bird still calling overhead, so close, sounded like it was comin’ from the bridge.

“The moment I saw you in the liquor store, your eyes.” She took a breath, a step. His hand still stretched toward her, thumb on his fingers. “Like honey. I mean, I won’t lie. Felt like I was…falling into them. Falling into you, had never…” she shook her head, thinking as Tora stared into her eyes, knew exactly what she meant—felt like he was fallin’ too, fuck. So warm. “I was distracted, sad, mad. Betrayed. A little drunk,” she added, the ghost of a smile on her lips as she took another step forward. “Didn’t know why I felt so…so _safe_ with you. _Warm_ with you. Right away. I mean,” her eyes flicked up and down his body, lingering on the patch, the tattoo at his neck before drawing back up to meet his stare. “You know you _do_ look like a thug—boss-level. All those tattoos. You’re massive. I don’t know what came over me,” she said softly. “What possessed me talk to you, normally I’d never talk to someone like you,” she said, and Tora swallowed back a pang in his throat. _Someone like ya._ Dangerous. A fuckin’ threat. Could overpower her easily, wouldn’t even have to try. “And _you_ know. I judge people, I’m working on it,” she murmured, a smile in her eyes for a moment as she took another step, licking her lip once. “Something about your eyes, though. Like I knew I could trust you, but how would I know that?”

Tora shook his head once, slightly. Barely a movement at all as he held her gaze with his. “And then suddenly,” a pause, the breeze on his hair, tickling the back of his neck, the strawberry against the crown of his head. “You were everything,” she breathed, tilting her head back, her shoulders falling away from her ears, her body opening to him and Tora felt his heart seize in his chest. _Everything._ “All I could think about. I feel like I’ve known you forever, like I’ve trusted you forever. Why would I feel that way?” Her eyes were so wide as she took another step closer. He didn’t think either of them had blinked at all. “About a man I’d just met, twice—three times my size. At midnight in a liquor store, even though he told me he didn’t drink. And I trusted him—you. It doesn’t make sense, right? And yet, there was no doubt in my mind you were telling me the truth.”

Tora felt his lips part as her hand slowly crept up, extending forward through the space between them as she took another step. “And then last week. You said I wouldn’t recognize you. Right? Wouldn’t recognize you if we met as kids, didn’t always have long hair, you said,” she shook her head once to the side, her eyes glued to his, Tora’s breath caught somewhere in his chest just below his throat, the bird crying out behind him, could hear it echoing under the tin roof of the bridge. “Your eyes.” She shook her head, her fingers a handspan from his in the space between them, could feel the breeze blowing against his palm, his thumb resting against his fingers, slowly opening up. Blooming toward her touch, needed to feel her. Skin-to-skin. “Had only ever met two other people with eyes like yours. What’re the chances…” she tilted her head again, peering up at him. “Couldn’t let myself believe it, entertain it. What were the chances that the boy from the city…” Tora froze, his gaze burning into hers, “with the amber eyes who helped me up off the ground, helped me home when I was hurt the day I did my first and only wheelie…”

Tora shuddered around an inhale, held it in his lungs for a second before letting it out between his teeth, a gasp, could feel his whole damn spine loose, like his body, his whole being had been waiting for this moment. Years for this moment. And it was her. Bobby.

“You know, I was so distracted by the unusual color of his eyes, like gold. And the bruise on his face,” her eyes dropped to his jaw, swallowing before looking back up at him. “Had never seen him around before, couldn’t remember much else of what he looked like. Short hair, not long at all—I don’t think it was black, though,” she said, her gaze dropping to the loose hair around his shoulders, separated from the bun on his head, before immediately returning to his stare. His eyes so fuckin’ wide, could feel them boring into her, his vision blurring against the breeze. Couldn’t fuckin’ blink though. Couldn’t move.

“You know, he looked so hurt, I’d never seen an injury like that before. Nothing like the scrapes on my knees. It was hard for me—at twelve, you know, sheltered by Granny and my dad, Moonbright—it was hard to imagine a scenario that would end with his jaw bruising up almost the entire side of his face, swollen out like—” she broke off, tears welling in her eyes as Tora’s nostrils flared, could barely see her as he bit the inside of his mouth against the sting in his own eyes, at the back of his throat. “A kid—hurt like that. And he offered to help me. This boy who was _himself_ hurt, who already had a carful of other boys I assumed were his brothers, clearly looking after them.” She spoke each word slowly, carefully, her face open in awe. “This boy walked me home, picked up my bike and insisted on pushing me on it so I wouldn’t have to walk, wouldn’t have to limp home.” She bit her lip around a smile, “swore a lot, but so kind, you know. And in the middle of pumping gas after I’d almost run him over. Wanted to be like that, like him.” She took another step, her fingers suddenly warm on his, slipping along his palm, and up his forearm as she pressed up against him, her head bent back to hold his gaze. “I knew you were a good then, Tora. I knew it at the liquor store ten years later just like I know it now.”

His hand clutched at her elbow as he exhaled, could feel the tears welling in the corners of his eyes as she swam out of focus. Not even a second later, he could suddenly see her again as his right eye leaked down his nose, could feel the drop hanging at the end before running into the dip along his nostril, cresting his lip until it met his tongue where his mouth had parted. Could see she was cryin’, too. Or at least real fuckin’ close to it. How the fuck did they always end up cryin’? Least they were standin’ this time—not on the fuckin’ floor of her kitchen. “You’re a good egg, Tora. I don’t know what brought you into the life you lead now, don’t know how you ended up with this,” she said, reaching up and touching the crest or maybe the scars, maybe both. “And I don’t know why, don’t understand how you do what you say you do. Can’t really—” she took an inhale, a tear spilling over onto her cheek, down to her mouth as her eyebrows pulled together. “I love you,” she gasped, biting her lip again as tears spilled from her other eye, running along the side of her nose. “I love you, Tora.” Tora bit his tongue, wanted to reach out, hold her, wipe it all away, save her from that side of him. Knew he couldn’t. Fuck, felt the pressure mounting in his chest, threatening to ricochet up his throat, a rockslide guaranteed to crush them both. Forced himself to bite it back, swallow, needed to hear her. “I don’t know how to reconcile the Tora I know with k—” she exhaled harshly, her breath so shaky, “with killing people.” He held his breath as she took one, his tears falling freely down his fuckin’ face, some of them onto hers as she stared up at him. “But I know it’s not the only side of you. It scares me,” she nodded, about to go on when he cut her off, forcing his voice up from beneath the rocks in his chest.

“I’d never hurt ya, Poppylan,” he choked out, so fuckin’ hoarse. Cracked on the word _hurt_.

She shook her head, her voice steadying, “I know that. Told you, I trust you. I know I’m safe with you.” She touched the back of the fist with the juice and the wrapper to his chest, “I’m scared _for_ you, Tora.”

Tora exhaled sharply, blinking as the tears in his left eye spilled over again, mirroring a path down the other side of his nose as he brought his free arm up to wipe at his face, rolling his eyes toward the canopy above them as he tried to calm his heartrate. Shit, how’d she always manage to do that? Slipped right under his guard every fuckin’ time. He closed his eyes, for some reason, the image of the blackened lung swimming to the front of his mind, burned across his lids. Rotten inside. He fuckin’ knew that—knew he was beyond savin’. She didn’t know it yet, he swallowed at the thought, at the fear in his stomach that she eventually would. He knew she accepted him, but fuck, maybe love wasn’t enough. Even the star-crossed kind.

“Tora.”

He felt her fingers tighten on his arm as she moved her fist from his chest around his waist. Felt the gun press into his back, his head snapping back down immediately. Her wrist rested against it—no way she didn’t feel it. Hadn’t moved though. Maybe she didn’t realize what it was? She fuckin’ must. He slipped his hand back around her arm, attempting to pull her off of him, didn’t like the idea of her feeling the weapon on him. Didn’t like it at all. But Poppy had other ideas, clearly, as she stared up at him, her jaw setting as he heard something thump against the leaves behind him, her hand suddenly spreading open across his back, blooming as she pressed the gun more firmly between them, her brow settling heavy above her eyes.

He listened to the bird from behind him, its call swooping up from a low pitch before trailing off on three mournful sighs. Sounded so fuckin’ sad. “How long have ya known?” he asked finally, not sure whether he meant the gun or what she’d just told him.

She watched him for a moment as he licked his lips, his breathing steadier now under her touch, her eyes softening. Wasn’t cryin’ anymore, or at least, the tears had stopped spillin’ from her eyes. “Wasn’t sure until the gas station,” she murmured. “The way you froze up, like you knew the place or something. And what would the odds be that you’d know the gas station down the street from my Granny’s?” He watched as a small smile crept up her face. “First started thinking about it after you mentioned how different you looked as a teenager, though. Tora with short hair,” she laughed once through her nose, as though to herself as she pictured it. “Hadn’t ever imagined you without long hair, but when you said it hadn’t always been that way…that I wouldn’t have recognized you…” she trailed off. “Got me thinking about your eyes, only two other people.”

_Ever dye yours blue?_ He licked his lips, swallowing. “Who,” he murmured, holding her gaze as her lips parted around a sigh. Her brow pulling together as she looked up over his shoulder, as though pulling something from the depths of her memory. He ran his hands up her arms, settling his palms around her back, down to her waist. Her body so soft under the sweater.

“Well, there was the boy from the gas station,” she smiled, meeting his eyes again and bumping her chin against his chest, “you.” He huffed a laugh through his nose—fuck, how was it even possible? What were the fuckin’ chances? “And then there was a man—a young guy, teenager?” she frowned. “It was after my dad had died. He came around here asking for him. Hadn’t known he’d passed.” She sighed, lifting her arms out from around him and he released her, turning to follow her as she dipped down to the ground, picking up the juice box and the sandwich wrapper she’d dropped before holding out her hand to him. Tora let his fingers slip between hers as she guided them back up toward the bridge where she paused, touching the back of her fist to the wood briefly. Tora gazed up at the corner of the roof—a bird—grayish brown, tinged a dusky pink on the chest, nearly invisible—had settled into the space where he’d seen twigs tucked away. Found its black eyes from the shadows, little beads that caught the dying afternoon light, shining down at him. A moment later, Poppy’s fingers had tightened around his, pulling him back up the path they’d taken, back toward the yellow house through the woods.

“It was odd,” she continued, swinging his hand slightly between them. “He had this bright blue hair, eyes like yours,” she said, looking up at him before turning her gaze toward the path ahead, carefully stepping over the roots that grew from one side to the other. “Had never seen him before. And Moonbright’s pretty small,” she said. Tora swallowed hard—if it was Goliath, what the hell had he been doin’ showin’ up at Poppy’s? And lookin’ for her dad? “Everyone knows everyone, so outsiders stick out right away. I thought he might be from the city. So much color, you know? I’d wanted to go for so long, I think maybe because of you,” she glanced up at him, a smile on her face.

“Me?”

She laughed softly, “mmm. I mean, the only people I’d ever really met from the city were you and my dad—can’t really remember my mom, so she doesn’t count,” Poppy nodded and Tora frowned slightly— _didn’t count?_ “You know, as a kid, it just seemed like a place of excitement, of wonder. And I think there was some level of rebellion, too,” she laughed to herself.

Tora frowned further. _Rebellion?_ What the fuck was she rebellin’ against? “Whaddaya mean?”

“Oh,” she turned to look at him as he ducked around a branch. “You know, like if you’re told you can’t have something or you can’t do something and it just makes you want it more?” He tilted his head. Thought he understood what she was sayin’—thought of the way he’d pursued her, knowin’ full well it was a bad idea for the both of ‘em, unable to stop himself. Fuckin’ selfish bastard.

“Whaddaya sayin’, Bobby?” he frowned. “Like ya couldn’t leave Moonbright?”

“No, not that. Just wasn’t allowed to go to the city.” Tora felt his stomach turn, her words sinking into him. Why wouldn’t she be allowed to go to the city? And how’d the conversation ended up here? She’d been talkin’ about the other guy, the blue hair— _Goliath?_

“Ya gonna have to help me out here, Bobby—” he said, letting her pull him around a bend in the path just as she paused, her other hand that clutched the trash coming up to tap his forearm.

“—There,” she said before pointing out to the left.

Tora frowned, looking out into the woods as he lowered his head beside hers, glancing at her face from the corner of his eye. “The fuck we lookin’ at, Bobby,” he whispered.

“The bush over there,” she said, her arm stretching out a little further, as though that helped at all in distinguishing which plant she was talkin’ about. Tora raised his eyebrows, squinting at the dense shrubbery along the path, between the trees. “The reddish leaves.”

“Bobby,” he shook his head against her braid, “they’re all fuckin’ red.”

She huffed, “no, not the trees, the long stalks over there,” she pointed again, and Tora leaned his head closer, following the length of her arm until he spotted what he thought she meant—a little twig-lookin’ plant with narrow leaves—bright red, almost like the thing was on fire as it swayed in the breeze. “Poison sumac.”

_Huh_ , at least that one looked a little more dangerous, the colors of the leaves practically screamin’ _back the fuck up._ “Can it kill ya,” he asked. He waited, listening to the rustle of the leaves above them, all around them. The bird calling faintly through the trees behind them, back from the bridge. “Bobby?” he turned his head to look at her, his nose skimming against her braid before he pulled back to see her face. She was staring out into the woods, her eyes zoned out somewhere in the space between where they stood and where the poison plant shook in the wind. She blinked a moment later, her eyes coming back into focus.

“No, just hurt.”

He waited a moment, watching her expression—unreadable—before he stood back up slowly, the gun pressing into the skin above his ass, tight in his waistband. At his movement, she seemed to come back to herself, turning to blink up at him. She opened her mouth, looked like she wanted to say somethin’, her eyes searching his as he tilted his head. He watched until she shook her head softly, and then she was leading him up the path again, the trees thinning around them, the trunks getting smaller as they approached the edge of the woods, could see the late afternoon sun casting the backyard in the shadow of the house. “Full of danger,” she said finally when they’d reached the grass again. “Dad always said the city was full of danger, not a place he wanted me going. Not even to visit. Could only ever see it from one spot—my favorite place in Moonbright,” she said.

“One of ya special places,” he murmured.

She nodded, smiling slightly. “You didn’t seem dangerous,” Poppy tilted her head to look at him, slowing her steps until she’d pulled them to a pause beside the strawberries, the white flowers along the edge of the yard. “But I wondered if it was the city that’d hurt you,” she murmured, releasing her grip on his hand and bringing her fingers up to run along his jaw. “Something in the city.”

Tora pressed his tongue to the roof of his mouth as he swallowed. Somethin’ in the city, alright. A fuckin’ monster’s den. He brought his hand up to circle the back of hers, lifting her fingers away from his face before turning to press a kiss to her palm. “So why go then?” He shook his head, couldn’t understand. “If ya knew it was dangerous, if ya dad told ya, warned ya. Why go?”

She smiled at him then, soft, the breeze blowing stray hairs across her forehead, one across her cheek, catching along the corner of her mouth. Tora reached out and brushed it away, tucking it behind her ear. “What kind of life would that be?” she asked, gazing up at him as he frowned in question. “You know, up until recently I was letting my fears decide for me,” she gestured her head back toward the house, taking a step back and waiting until he followed, walking back toward the porch. When they’d reached the stairs, she turned, sitting down on the top step and spreading her legs wide, patting the wood on the step below hers. _Pfft_ , no way could he fit there. He raised his eyebrows at her and she stared back, patting her hand again as he sighed, turning and lowering himself between her legs which she spread further to accommodate his shoulders as he lifted his arms, resting them on her knees, his hands falling to her shins. He felt her lean into him, her arms wrapping around his neck, hands pressing to his chest, her tits soft against his back as he felt her nuzzle her nose into his hair, inhaling.

She sighed a moment later, could feel her breath on his hair. “Julri asked me out in high school,” she said finally, and Tora felt himself tense under her hands. _The fuck?_ He braced himself for whatever shit he was about to learn about the fucker—everything she’d told him made him hate the bastard more and more. “I was so excited, couldn’t believe anyone would want—” she broke off, breathing deep against him. “Would want me like that,” she finished, her voice softer. Tora’s hands tightened around her shins, his thumbs rubbing against her pants. _How did she not know how fuckin’ special she was?_

“I wasn’t happy with him, for a long time I wasn’t happy. But I was afraid, you know—what if he was it? What if there was no one else who’d want me?” Tora gritted his teeth, knew there was nothin’ he could say that’d fix whatever it was inside her that made her think this way. He’d just have to keep showin’ her. Showin’ her what a goddamn angel she was. “In a way, I’m glad he cheated.” She huffed against his head, could feel her nodding. “Not sure I ever would’ve left him otherwise. That wasn’t your question, though,” he heard her laugh softly against his head, her chest moving along his back. “Sorry.”

“Shit, sweetheart,” he ran his hands up and down her shins, sighing. “Don’t apologize for—” he swallowed. For what? What even was she apologizin’ for? “For how ya feel, for sharin’ how ya feel.”

She was quiet for a moment, leaned her head against him. A car door slammed on the street on the other side of the house and she took a deep breath. 

“Erdene helped me get a job offer in the city doing what I love, you know. What I wanted to do. A _big break_ ,” she sing-songed the words like she was referencing something, Tora wasn’t sure what. “They don’t come often, I know that. Shouldn’t have even gotten it, but she put in a good word for me, and Gil, my boss now, he took a chance on me. Because of her but also, I think, because of my last name. My dad was really well known, really well respected as a journalist in the city. So, Gil hired me.”

“Smart man,” Tora smiled, peering at her from the corner of his eye as she squeezed his chest.

“It was scary, leaving everything I’d known behind. Felt guilty, too. I was leaving Julri behind, and he wasn’t happy about it. Made that clear,” she laughed once, bitter. “Was leaving Granny behind, too. Everything that was comfortable, that I knew. Even felt like I was leaving my dad behind.”

She sighed against him and her right braid fell from her shoulder, dropping against his chest, could smell her sweet scent mixed with his soap from the morning. A flash of movement from the tree line drew Tora’s eyes up—the bird, perching in the reds and golds, the leaves nearly camouflaging its body, the sky a deep blue along the tops of the branches as the sun fell from above. The bird’s cry rolling over the backyard toward them. “So why go?” she repeated his question, her lips against his ear before she pressed a kiss to him. Could hear her breathing, the way it stuttered as she swallowed. “Beyond the job, my career, beyond wanting to be like my dad—a successful writer in the city—beyond even wanting to kick out on my own, see what was out there that I’d been cautioned against for so long…” she pressed another kiss to him. “I had this feeling. This _pull_ , always this pull toward the city. Even when I was a kid, sitting next to my dad, watching the haze of the skyline in the distance. I don’t know,” she shrugged, her chest rolling soft against his back, “like a gut feeling that it’s where I belonged.”

There it was again, Quincey’s phrase. _A gut feeling._ His brother had used the word instinct, too. Was it the same thing? Had her instinct drawn her closer to him? “And now?” he asked after a moment. “Ya ever think about comin’ back here?”

He listened to her smile, felt her lips pull up against his ear as the bird cried again—so fuckin’ sad, why’d it sound so goddamn sad? “Sometimes. Or maybe somewhere not quite so far from the city, where there’s still grass and trees, wildlife. Where you can still hear the birds—I miss the birds,” she said softly, turning her head toward the sound of the one in the tree.

“What about Pudge,” he asked, a smile on his lips as she laughed against him.

“I do love Pudge, can’t really hear him, though, unless he knocks his head against the glass. Not really the same, though.”

“So ya like that one,” he said, nodding toward the trees, the bird crying out. Tora scanned the leaves again but couldn’t find it. _Little shit could really hide,_ _huh_.

“Yeah, I love mourning doves,” she said, dipping her head and pressing a kiss to his shoulder as he squeezed her shins.

_Morning doves?_ Tora frowned slightly. The fuck did morning have to do with ‘em? “Bobby,” he said, turning to look at her where her chin rested on his shoulder, “s’almost night, sweetheart. The fuck ya talkin’ about?”

She laughed again, “no, different mourning. Like grief,” she explained. Tora looked back out at the trees. So, it _had_ been fuckin’ cryin’. “It’s the male bird that sings,” she said.

“More like cryin’.”

“Yeah,” she agreed, nodding against him, her hands beginning to stroke his chest. “He’s calling for his mate,” she said, and Tora felt his eyebrows rise on his forehead. _His mate?_ “It’s how they woo the females, by singing for them.” Tora tilted his head back, eyes still searching the leaves as the bird continued to cry out.

“Ya mean to fuck?”

She laughed, shaking her head, “no, Tora, not to _fuck_ ,” she lowered her voice in an imitation of his, but it came out more like a snort cause she was still laughin’. Shit, he loved makin’ her laugh. Loved hearin’ her laugh. And here, in her hometown, the backyard of her Granny’s house, one of her special places. The place they’d first met all those years ago…fuck, it felt even better. Like he was fuckin’ flyin’ again. Like that goddamn bird, cryin’.

“She lost?”

“I’m sure she’ll be back. They mate for life.” Tora felt his lips part at her words, his mouth suddenly running dry as his smile fell. A moment passed as they listened to the bird, the trees in the breeze. A bumblebee landed on the railing beside them and Tora watched as it shivered its wings, tiny black legs crawling over splinters. Nothin’ like the little dead bees in the city along the curbs, their bodies curled up around wet cigarettes. Full of life—this town was spillin’ with it.

He thought of Quincey’s words, _your person._ Swallowed, pulled his voice up from his lungs where it’d caught in the middle of his chest beneath her hands, “so, what, like a…soulmate?” The word fell from his tongue, foreign, floating in the air around them.

“Hmm,” she hummed in thought, could feel it in her chest, vibrating against his back. “Maybe,” she said, “I think soulmate is usually tied up in the idea of destiny, fate,” she said. “Not having control over your life, like your decisions don’t matter in the end.” He felt her hands pause where she’d been stroking his pecs. “I’d like to think there’s more choice involved. Like, he’s choosing her and she’s choosing him, over and over. It takes effort for it to work, to last.”

He nodded slowly, thinking back to what she’d said in the car. _You have to do the work to make it come true_. “Like ya wishin’.”

“Hmm,” she nodded, thinking about it before turning to look at him. “Yeah. I guess,” she said. “Kind of like nature versus nurture, too.” She had a funny look on her face as she stared into his eyes, couldn’t tell what she was thinkin’—didn’t know what she meant by that last part. He opened his mouth to ask her as she said, “that one nests in the bridge, I think.” She nodded her head towards the tree line, the bird still calling out _coo-ooo. Ooo, ooo-ooh_. “Granny told me there used to be a pair of mates that lived down by the creek. My dad found one of them on the bridge one day, wasn’t sure what’d happened. He brought her back here to the house, buried her somewhere over there,” she lifted a hand, pointing toward the strawberries along the edge of the path where they’d just come from. Tora frowned, looking out at the edge of the woods as the bird cried again. “When one of the pair dies, the dove that’s left behind mourns, visits the place where their mate passed.” Tora gritted his teeth, swallowing against the thought—the bird buried beneath the strawberries, the worm in Bobby’s hand, burrowing into the soil.

“Granny’s convinced it’s the same pair, though, in spirit. That he keeps flying back and forth between the place where she died and the place where she rests.” Poppy leaned up from him, circling her hands on his chest once more before dragging her fingers up along his shoulders, his neck, her nails brushing over his scalp as she loosened the strawberry from his hair, combing her hands lightly against his head. Could feel the tingles down his back as he let his eyes close to the feel of her legs around him, her shins under his hands, her soft body so warm against his back as she gently worked his hair up into a full bun before placing a kiss to the side of his neck on the patch—tender. “I think she’s reading herself into the dove, though. She takes a walk through the woods to the bridge every morning at sunrise, I used to go with her. Touch the wood, head back. It helps. Grounds you when you feel like you might sink.”

Tora felt his brows pull together, could see the guardrail at Regina’s Peak against his closed lids. Could practically feel the cool metal against his fingertips as he shifted his hand on her leg, stroking a thumb along the ring around his middle finger. Fuck, he knew exactly what she meant.

“It’s getting late,” she murmured, and Tora opened his eyes, gazing up at the sky—the blue much deeper now, purpling like a bruise, hazy with pinks and oranges from the setting sun. “You up for one more stop?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yo, thank you so much for sticking with this story for so long, like daaaamn, I’m blown tf away. Though I'm a writer in my day-to-day life outside of fanfic, this is by far (BY FUCKIN FAR) the most I've ever written on one work and it *takes deep breath* means the WORLD to me that you're still on board this train with me. I love your comments and getting to fan out with you over this wonderful Webtoon, this beautiful world with unendingly complex characters Lily has created for us. Brb gonna go cry 😭😭
> 
> ✨🍓Come say hi on IG @melarela1223 where I post WIPs, inspo, and other random shit about my MPL obsession🍓✨
> 
> Ch. 36: Poppy takes her tiger to another special place in Moonbright...


	36. Flower bullets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tora and Poppy visit one last special place.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Music for this: Raleigh Ritchie’s “Time In A Tree” fr fr 
> 
> Table for two? And would you care for a side of intrigue with your fluff? We offer angst, too, here at The MPL Inn. Pick your poison.
> 
> As always, characters belong to the real MVP Lilydusk, brilliant creator of Midnight Poppy Land. Support her on Patreon! https://www.patreon.com/lilydusk

**Chapter 36**

“It’s getting late.” Tora opened his eyes, gazing up at the sky—the blue much deeper now, turning purple, hazy with pinks and oranges from the setting sun. “You up for one more stop?”

“Course, Bobby,” he murmured, raising one of her hands from his chest to his lips briefly before he felt her standing up. He waited until her legs had parted from around his waist before pulling himself up off the steps, turning to watch her as she bent, picking up the juice box and the wrapper from the wood before climbing the rest of the way. He looked back once at the bee before following her up the stairs and into the house, sliding the door closed behind him and locking it. Tora toed off his shoes and strode to the counter, running one of Bull’s leaves between his thumb and middle finger. Seemed alright, the soft interior of the leaf shifting under the light pressure from his grip.

“That sandwich was good, but what do you think of a picnic?” she smiled at him as she pulled out a container of rice from the fridge.

“A picnic, huh?” he asked, turning to face her, folding his arms across his chest as he leaned against the counter. “Another special place, sweetheart?”

She bit her lip around a smile as she placed the container on the counter, pulling out a cutting board and a separate empty container from a cabinet beneath the tile surface. “Are you adverse to special places?”

“Nah, sweetheart,” he grinned, tilting his head at her. “What makes this one special?”

“Oh, you’ll see.”

“Ya need help?” he asked, moving to push off the counter as she quickly whipped around, her hands held in the air, palms facing her, sleeves rolled up to her elbows, her eyes so damn wide. Fuckin’ adorable.

“No,” she said, her voice a little higher than usual. Tora felt his eyebrows draw up in question. The fuck was she makin’?

“I like secrets, Bobby,” he murmured, taking a step toward her as her eyes widened even further. He ran his tongue along his teeth, watching as a blush colored the tops of her cheeks. Fuck, he loved flusterin’ her. “Wanna share?”

“Tora,” she breathed before taking a quick inhale, raising a finger at him from the left hand she held in front of her face, “go sit out there.” She nodded her head back toward the front room where the table was.

He laughed, _shit_. _Was too fuckin’ easy_. “Nah, gotta take a piss, Bobby,” he said, laughing again as she huffed his name and rolled her eyes.

“Down the hall, left-hand side,” she nodded toward the doorway, turning back toward the counter. Tora smiled, padding down the hallway as he shook his head to himself. His eye caught a glimpse of a mirror above a sink from one of the open doorways and he strode over to it. As he reached in, flicking on the light, he heard Poppy shout from the kitchen, “wait!” just as his eyes landed on the pink box beside the faucet. He frowned, squinting at it. _The fuck…?_ He heard her heavy footsteps, frantic against the floor as she ran toward him, slipping against the wood in her socks, slamming straight into his side before he could react.

“Shit, Bobby, ya okay?” his arms flew out to steady her by the elbows against his torso, catching her from falling on her ass, her hands still held up in the air in loose fists, a couple grains of rice stuck along her fingers. He ran his hands up and down her arms, checking her quickly before searching her face—beet fuckin’ red. 

Her mouth hung open for a moment before she squirmed in his arms, trying to maneuver around him, but he held her steady, looking on in confusion before he glanced back at the box beside the sink. “No,” she said forcefully, and he let her go like she’d burned him, watching as she quickly sidestepped him into the bathroom, closing the door in his face. He felt his mouth fall open as he blinked at the wood. _The fuck just happened?_

He frowned, listening to her rustle around on the other side of the door for a moment before she swung it back open, panting lightly, a grain of rice stuck in her hair, another on her cheek. “Bobby,” he said, reaching out halfway to her face before stopping himself, remembering her tone from just a couple seconds ago. Shit, didn’t know if he should touch her—if she wanted to be touched.

She seemed to notice his hesitation as she let out a shaky sigh, reaching up and circling his wrist with her hand. He let out a breath at the contact, not realizing it’d caught in his throat. “Sorry, I’m sorry,” she said, meeting his eyes again as he closed the distance between them, his fingers pulling the sticky grains of rice off of her. “I just…” she trailed off.

Tora tilted his head, glancing back at the toilet. Couldn’t see the pink box anywhere. What the fuck could come in a pink box that she’d bring to the bathroom? From the family planning section of the store? That she’d be mortified of him seeing— _my ex was always grossed out._ Tora’s mouth fell open, his jaw loosening as his nostrils flared. _Sorry if I got any on you_. That motherfucker was fuckin’ dead next time he saw him. “Goddammit, Bobby,” he said, exhaling in a rush, biting his tongue at his harsh tone, her eyes widening, fingers releasing his wrist. “Shit, sweetheart. I just mean,” he brought his hands up to her face, cupping her cheeks as he bent closer to her. “Don’t apologize for ya body, Bobby. Ever.” He shook his head as her brow mirrored his, pulling to the center of her face, “not to anyone, but especially not me. Shit.”

The flush across her face deepened as she swallowed, realizing he knew. Her eyes dipped down to his chest before she sighed, turning in his arms, his hands still raised in the air as she moved to the closet at the back of the small room, opening the door where the pink box tumbled out from where she’d stashed it, nearly hitting her in the face on the way down. She fumbled it in her hands as it fell to the floor, sliding a pace away from Tora who leaned down to pick it up for her. He tilted his head in confusion as he passed it to her— _what the fuck?_ He’d heard of tampons before, but shit, maybe he’d gotten it wrong. Could see through the little plastic window on the box—looked like white rounds all lined up like ammo. He blinked up at her suddenly at the sound of her snort, finding her eyes as she gasped for breath.

  
“Sorry—I mean, sorry—no,” she held a finger toward him, nodding once, as though reaffirming to herself and to him that she was heeding his words, “I’m not sorry,” she said firmly. “Your face, though. I’m s—” she broke off on a laugh as she winced. “I say that a lot, don’t I?”

He looked at her in bewilderment—she’d gone from near tears of embarrassment to sudden laughter, unable to contain it as it bubbled from her throat. All in the span of a couple seconds. “Yeah, ya do,” he said, his brows raising as she doubled over, nearly smacking her forehead against the counter, her neck flushing as the blood rushed to her head from being bent forward, or maybe from the force of her laughter.

“Holy shit, Bobby,” he quickly led her away from the edge with a hand to her elbow, steadying her as she finally stood up, wiping a tear from her eye. “Sor—” she sucked her lips between her teeth, her eyes widening at the floor between their feet, swallowing. He watched as she took a deep breath, her shoulders rising, blowing it out slowly before she looked up at him. “Tampons, for your period.” He raised his eyebrows as she thought about it for a second, shaking her head quickly, “not _your_ period, for _my_ —” she huffed. “You shove them up there and they catch your blood. _My_ blood.” Tora felt his mouth close and then open again as he tried to understand what the fuck she was sayin’.

“So, what,” he started slow, eyes flicking from the box to her face, “like gauze?” Looked like they might be cotton, reminded him of styptic sticks. She nodded, “yeah, I guess. Never thought of them that way. Not exactly like it’s a wound, you know,” she said bringing one hand up to his chest before opening up the box and pulling out one of the bullets—definitely cotton—wrapped in plastic, could see a little string wrapped around it inside the packaging, rolled tight against the fibrous folds. He frowned at it, peering closer as she held it up for him. “Here,” she unwrapped it, peeling the wrapper off and shoving it back in the box with the others, her fingers unrolling the string and carefully unfolding the tampon until it bloomed in her hand. He watched as she took one of his hands in hers, placing it in his palm like a flower. Tora looked up at her, then back down, turning it over with his fingers—even when it was opened up, the thing was pretty tiny in his hands, but then again, so was Bobby. How the fuck did it hold any blood? As he passed it back to her though, his eyes widened as he realized it was actually the length of her entire palm.

“Holy shit, sweetheart. That fit up there?”

She laughed but when he just continued to look at her, she squinted her eyes at him. “Tora.” She glanced down at his crotch and then back up at his face. “What do you think.” He laughed then, well, shit. She wasn’t wrong about that. He reached out and took it from her again, turning the pillowy thing over in his fingers. She shrugged and turned her gaze back down to it, “I’m surprised you’re so…” she took a breath “…comfortable with it. A lot of people aren’t. Especially this kind where your fingers actually have to touch the blood.”

He frowned. She was surprised he was comfortable with blood? Again, he found himself wondering if she really understood, whether she’d wrapped her head around who he was. What he was. Wasn’t gonna bring it up here, though. Not now. In Moonbright at her Granny’s house standin’ in the fuckin’ bathroom. “S’just ya body, Bobby. We all got blood.” He smiled softly at her, his fingers stroking the soft fluff of cotton. “So do ya need…” he trailed off, not sure what to offer. If he even _could_ offer her anything. Did it hurt?

“Oh,” she said, setting the box back onto the counter, “Haven’t started bleeding yet—woke up with cramps this morning, figured it was better safe than sorry,” she shrugged. _Cramps?_ So, it did hurt? “Anywaaaay,” she drew out the word, moving to squeeze by him back through the doorway, “I’ll let you get back to—yeah.”

“Takin’ a piss,” he smirked as she huffed, pushing her hands against his back as he took a couple steps forward, allowing her to close the door as she left the room. _Shit, too easy_. He glanced at himself in the mirror, the strawberry in his hair where she’d tied it up for him. He stared at himself for a moment, his eyes. The ones she saw. He let the weight of where he was, who he was with sink into him. The yellow house, the flowers. Looked down at the cotton in his hand, holding the string with one hand he moved his fingers up the length of it with his other, rolling it back up into a bullet shape before releasing the fraying edge, a white flower. Bobby holdin’ his hand through the woods, to the steps, her legs tucked around his body—no one had ever held him like that, so fuckin’ tender. Pullin’ him to her center, her most private part. Her head level with his so that when he’d turned to face her, she’d been eye level for once, her hands spread almost protectively against his chest, strokin’ over his heart, his rotten fuckin’ lungs—the little grains of rice on her face, in her hair, the blood rushin’ to her cheeks. Everything she’d shared with him, continued to share with him. Opening up, fuckin’ blooming.

He looked down at the box, the cotton bullets that she nestled inside of her tucked into the place only he’d ever been inside, absorbing her blood. Last time he’d been here they’d been kids—her dad’d been alive. So had Joe. So much had changed. And now…fuck, he _loved_ her. This tiny hamster of a woman who—just three weeks ago—he hadn’t seen in ten years. Hadn’t even suspected it was her until that night at Regina’s Peak. Had made love to her— _pfft, made love_. He started to shake his head at himself in the reflection, his eyebrows heavy, but it was true, wasn’t it? He’d known he loved her their first time. The blood between her thighs from when his body had rocked into hers, dried in the crease of his hip. The way she’d let him wipe it away—fuck, if that wasn’t makin’ love, what was? He didn’t know much about love, but shit. Felt important, special. Unlike any other time. He watched his eyes flick back and forth, down to his mouth as he licked his dry lips. And she loved him, couldn’t keep the smile tugging up as he leaned away from the mirror, turning to move to the toilet and unzipping his jeans.

He shucked the denim down his thighs so that he could check the wound on his leg—the skin looked much better. Slightly pink around the edges, but it looked more like irritation than infection. Hadn’t really noticed it that much on the walk— _thank fuck_. As he relieved himself, he glanced around the room—felt cozy the way Bobby’s bathroom did. Though the shower curtain didn’t have plants on it, it was covered in little pink hearts, looked faded, like it’d been in use for years. Pale green ribbons between the pink splotches, connecting them—hell, almost looked like strawberries if he squinted. He couldn’t quite place the smell of the house—the closest he could think was what the greenhouse had smelled like. A mix of all the different flowers, earth and somethin’ else, a little musty. Dusty. Almost like the house had been frozen in time since last he’d been here. Tora flushed, lowering the toilet seat again and quickly washing his hands before heading back out to the main room where his eyes were drawn to a wall just to the left of the front door that he hadn’t noticed before. There were shelves, practically from the floor to the ceiling, lined with books, all of them the same height, size, and color. Thin, black spines facing out—no words on the sides like usual. Kind of the opposite of Bobby’s bookshelf back at her place. He frowned, stepping over to them—some of the books were more faded than others, they all seemed to be in various states of having been well-read. Creases lining the spines on some.

He heard Bobby approaching and turned to look at her. She smiled at him, her little black bag strapped across her chest, a larger beige tote bag over her shoulder and what looked like blankets rolled under her arm. His shoes in her left hand, hers in her right. “My dad’s,” she said, nodding toward the shelves as she dropped the sneakers by the front door, moving to stand beside him and tugging one of the books from a shelf at her eye level. “His journals,” she let it fall open in her palms, the spine cracking softly as she thumbed the pages, crinkling with the movements of her hand. “It’s like a piece of him lives on through them, like you can feel the weight of him across the paper. Proof he was real.” She stopped on one page, stroking her fingers over the words where Tora could see tight script, the characters like compact blocks that filled each page. Looked familiar. Quince kind of had similar writing, maybe that was it. He’d sure as shit spent enough time beta-reading with him.

“Damn,” he murmured, as she held the book out to him, inviting him to feel. Tora raised his hand to the page, letting the tips of his fingers skim featherlight over the words—bumpy with the weight of the ink where her father had pressed into the paper. “He wrote fuckin’ tiny, huh,” he said, impressed. Even though the characters were smaller than usual, they were incredibly neat—easily legible, almost like they’d been typed out. “Guess he had ya, so makes sense,” he smiled at her.

She laughed softly, “yeah, I wish I wrote like this,” she said, touching her fingers to the page beside Tora’s so that their hands brushed together briefly. “Though he _was_ on the short side like me, I didn’t inherit the good handwriting gene—and I practiced. Tried really hard to get mine to look like his. Couldn’t do it.”

He eyed her for a moment as she gazed at her father’s words. “So, what’d he write? S’a lot of shit,” Tora asked, glancing up at the shelves stuffed full of the little black notebooks. _Were they all filled like this?_ Fuck, no wonder Bobby liked her books.

“Mmm,” she hummed in agreement, “and it’s not even all of it. He journaled practically his whole life—there are more shelves upstairs,” she said nodding back toward the staircase behind them, “there are boxes, too, just spilling with them. With him, his life. Granny keeps them in my old bedroom along with most of the rest of his personal effects.” Tora nodded before squinting at the passage closest to where her fingers met the paper. It was dated about fifteen years ago, springtime:

_M says P spoke today, asked about family of rabbits. Newborns under porch. Think this is good sign, maybe she’s opening up again— NTS: call speech pathologist in morning, schedule check-up. P cried when I tucked her in tonight, asked for S again. Am running out of deflections. M and doc say P will forget, I’m not so sure. Met J at bakery for lunch—just finished reading DHS article he shared re: trauma/lasting effects of parental abandonment—not quite same boat, but applicable to P, I agree. Recommendations include one-on-one time to bond, lucky me—have all time in the world now. NTS: take P to see butterfly garden this weekend. _

“Lot of random letters,” he said, glancing over at her.

“Shorthand,” she murmured, “you know—journalist,” she rolled her eyes on a smile. “I don’t know what it all stands for—it’s like his own language. But I’d bet anything that I’m P,” she said, nodding toward the page.

“Even ya sweets?”

She laughed, “even my sweets. And I’m also pretty sure that M is Granny—M for mom.” He watched as her hand moved, crinkling the page where it curled with the press of fifteen-year-old ink. “NTS, I think is note to self, he includes it with directives and they’re usually underlined, like he was trying to make them stand out. So, that seems to make sense.” Her finger traced across the passage to the next letter. “S…I’m pretty sure that’s my mom. His early journals include her a lot more—there’s a sudden drop off once we moved to Moonbright. When she left us. Bitterness, too,” she said, her finger lingering on the phrase _lucky me._ “For good reason.”

Tora swallowed, his eyes moving to lock on Bobby, taking in every movement of her face, the way her mouth had tightened. She shook her head, her fingers tracing over the other lines, “lots of gaps, though. I was only four or five here, so I don’t really remember much of anything he describes this far back,” she said, tapping the passage. “And he died when I was fifteen, so I really only have, what, eight or nine years of memories.” Her finger stroked the passage again. “So many things I’ll never know, people he knew, worked with. A whole life outside of family. His friends. Even his journal contacts, I think. Sources. I’ve asked Granny before when certain letters keep repeating, but even she doesn’t know all of them. His earlier journals before we moved to Moonbright, they incorporate a lot of his work, his research into them. Meetings he had with people, random notes where he seemed to make a connection between ideas on the stories he was working, but for all his neatness, it’s like trying to grab water with a fork.” She sighed and Tora glanced down at the page, his eyes tracking the movement of her finger. “I think to protect people, maybe. It’d be hard for anyone to make much sense of it all without a key.” She shook her head again, leaning her head against the dip above Tora’s bicep. “I’ve just accepted that he had a life I’ll never know about, and I just have to be okay with it. With not having all the answers.”

 _Not having all the answers_. Well, shit—he wished it were that simple. Tora leaned down, kissing the top of her head as he moved to pull her against his chest, arms circling around her shoulders as he heard her close the book, bringing her own arms around his waist, burying her nose on his sternum. A few moments passed—Tora listened to the sound of a clock ticking somewhere in the room, wasn’t sure where exactly. Could faintly hear the bird calling from outside as the whir of the fridge kicked on in the kitchen. He felt her inhale against him once more before her fingers were tapping his back, “we should get going,” she murmured. Tora nodded against her hair, swiping his hands up and down her back once before lifting his arms from her so she could replace the book on the shelf.

“Let me get that, sweetheart,” he said, pulling the larger bag off of her shoulder as she bent to toe on her shoes. “Oi, I get to drive this time?”

She smiled, huffing through her nose, peering up at him as he put on his shoes, nudging the heel with his toe to unfold the back of one of his high tops. “Your leg all better?” she asked, readjusting the blankets in her arms and pulling open the front door as he grabbed the top corner, pulling it wide for the both of them.

“Shit, Bobby, ya just took me on a fuckin’ hike. Ya see me limpin’?” he smirked at her as he pulled the door closed, waiting until she’d locked it to follow her down the driveway. He glanced at the strawberries, the white flowers, along the edge of the pavement—a few bumblebees still lazing through the air as the sun set over the trees to the right.

“Hmm,” she tilted her head, pausing at the end of the driveway to watch him walk, her eyes dragging up and down his legs.

“ _Pfft_ , ya know ya a real piece of work, sweetheart. Fuckin’—”

“Feisty?” she stuck her tongue between her teeth, a fuckin’ smirk wormin’ its way up her cute fuckin’ face. Tora felt his mouth drop open, his foot in the air, caught mid-step halfway across the street. _The fuckin’_ _balls_ —he turned on his heel, striding back to her in just two steps, meeting her again at the edge of the driveway. He dropped the bag from his shoulder where it hit the pavement with a soft thud, her eyes falling wide as his arms circled her, the blankets tumbling to the ground as he scooped her up against his chest, Bobby laughing, her chest shaking against him. Tora moved his forearm to cup her ass, holding her securely against him as his other slid up her back, her shoulders, his fingers holding the base of her neck as he leaned in, pressing his lips firm against hers—couldn’t bring himself to give a single shit whether the neighbors saw. Remembered the way he’d stood nervous in the street the last time he’d been here, worried someone would call the cops on the thug outside the nice girl’s house, waiting for her to return where she’d limped away. An outsider. And now, fuck. Bobby’s tongue ran along his bottom lip, could feel her smile wide against him as he opened his mouth to her, her fingers in his hair, tugging gently, her nails on his scalp. Sparks shooting straight down to his feet and back up along his spine, like she was touchin’ every nerve in his body all at once. Exposed. Bared to her on the street, her arms so warm around him, pulling him in, pulling him close like he was supposed to be here, like he fuckin’ belonged here with her. Her tiger. He groaned softly into her mouth as he rotated in place, spinning her once before he felt Poppy lifting off his lips, her forehead resting against his before she pressed a kiss to his nose.

“Feisty,” he repeated. She held his gaze for a moment, smiling at him before she moved her hands to his shoulders, squeezing him to let her down. Tora grinned wider, lowering into a squat as he watched her eyes widen in mild panic. She gasped his name as he removed his hand from her back and felt her clutch at him tighter when he bent sideways to pick up the handles of the tote bag on the ground, slinging it up onto his shoulder. He reached back down, bringing his eyes to lock on Bobby’s as he grabbed a fistful of the blankets before standing back up, head tilted back. “Didn’t even hurt,” he said as his quad twinged, the sutures tugging at the skin, a dull ache, though—not like the morning. And the skin had looked good enough. Poppy smacked his shoulder lightly, letting out a huff at the gleam in his eyes, the way he’d pulled his lip up so that his dimple would show.

“Put that away right now,” she said, pressing her fingers to his face, trying and failing to repress a laugh. “And put me down, or we’re never going to make it.”

“Ya sure, sweetheart? I can drive us like this,” he smirked as she scowled.

“Tora,” she huffed.

“Ya at least gonna tell me where ya takin’ me? I mean, shit,” he grinned, “I’m yours, sweetheart, but I’m dyin’ to know.”

She shifted her jaw to the side, eyeing him as she moved her hands to his chest, his forearm still supporting her above the ground, keeping her eye level with him. She licked her lips, something passing over her expression as his own smile faded, eyes on her mouth. Was she thinkin’ of it, too? The last time they’d stood here all those years ago—their first promise? She shifted her right hand away from his chest, holding her fist in the space between them, extending her pinky as Tora felt his lips part at the memory. “You’ll like it,” she said.

Tora opened his fist, letting the blankets tumble down his leg where they landed soft against the side of his foot. He brought his own pinky to hers, wrapping them together as she pulled him into her again, her lips warm, full on his. So fuckin’ soft, his Bobby, the low hum of the bees behind them, the breeze tickling her hair against his face. Smelled so fuckin’ sweet, tasted it, too. Wanted to live in this fuckin’ moment for the rest of his sad fuckin’ life. Not as sad, he realized, now that Bobby was in it. He breathed against her before lifting away, slowly loosening his grip on her, letting her slide down his torso until her feet touched the ground. She bent down, quickly gathering the blankets before slipping her fingers between his, pulling him across the street to the car, the Lexus chirping once as she unlocked it. Tora stepped around her, opening the driver’s side door and taking the blankets from her arms, smirking as she rolled her eyes, climbing down into the seat. “Thank you, Tor.”

“Always, Bob,” he murmured, holding her gaze before he closed the door. “Trunk,” he said to her through the window, pointing toward the rear of the car as she started the engine. He walked to the back waiting a moment until he heard the soft pop of the release, opening it and folding in the blankets. As he put the tote bag down on top, his eyes fell on his go-bag, remembering the bottle of wine he’d tucked in the pocket. Wasn’t sure how far they were goin’ or where, but what the hell, why not, he thought. He pulled the bottle from the bag, shoving it into the tote before closing the trunk and moving around to the passenger door. _Ya won’t drink a lot_ , he told himself—didn’t want the night to go the way his 25th birthday had, but it might be nice to relax with Bobby. They were safe here, could let his guard down, he reminded himself as Bobby waited, watching him buckle, both of her hands resting on the top of the wheel.

“All good, Bobby,” he said, gesturing at the strap as she nodded her head, pulling away from the curb and swinging a U-turn in the street, carefully maneuvering around the edge of the driveway. As they pulled past the gas station, Tora watched her head turn to the left, glancing at the corner of the lot by the fence.

“So ya lived here with ya Granny and ya dad?” he asked softly, his eyes flicking back to the yellow house as it disappeared from view behind the trees. Poppy checked up and down the intersection where her Granny’s street met the main road before swinging a left.

“Kind of,” she glanced over at him, smiling as he pulled his eyebrows together in confusion.

“Kinda?”

She laughed through her nose. “Yeah, Dad and I lived about ten minutes from here,” she said, jerking her thumb back down the road behind them, “but I spent most of my time at Granny’s. And then after he died, this is where I lived. It’s always been home, you know?”

He nodded—didn’t know what it’d be like to have a house, a place that felt like home, but she didn’t need to know that. He understood the concept well enough. And besides, if home felt like what it was like when he was with her, then he did know. “So then, ya ever visit ya old house? The one ya lived with ya dad?”

Tora watched as she tightened her jaw, “no. It was really just a shell of a house. We ate and slept there, and not even all the time.” Her voice trailed off, as though lost in thought. Had a feelin’ she just needed a moment to collect her words.

“I get that,” he said quietly, almost to himself.

She took a deep breath, letting it out slow as she nodded. He felt the car pick up speed as she accelerated down the straight country road, the trees flashing by on either side of them. It was easier now to see the sky as the tree line opened up around the road, the woods thinning against the fiery horizon. Tora leaned his head against the window, gazing up again at the highest point—now a deep indigo where he could see the beginnings of stars, faint whispers above them that faded as the sky got lighter toward the horizon, pinks and oranges hazed against purple. He heard Poppy draw another deep breath and turned back to look at her, resting the back of his hand on the center console, fingers open. Without looking down, she slipped her palm against his, the weight of her forearm comfortable on his. Could feel the fabric of his hoodie rubbing against her sweater, catching with friction, keeping them pressed tight even as the car bumped over cracks in the road. “After school, I’d go to Granny’s and then Dad would pick me up on his way home from work. In the mornings, he’d drop me off at her house and I’d catch the bus from there. Weekends, I was always here,” she said, nodding back as though the yellow house was still outside her window. “Lots of slumber parties,” she laughed softly.

Tora frowned, “slumber? Like for sleepin’?”

“Yeah, you know,” she turned to look at him briefly, her eyebrows climbing up her forehead as he stared back at her. “Oh,” she said, seemingly realizing he had no fuckin’ clue what she was talkin’ about, “like a sleepover.” When he didn’t say anything, she kept going, “when you sleep at someone else’s house, for fun.” She eyed him for a moment until he nodded. _Huh_. Is that what they’d been doin’? Sleepovers at their apartments? _For fun._ Well, fuck, he sure as shit had been havin’ fun with her, and not just the sex. “So then, we been havin’ _slumber parties_?” he smiled at her from the corner of his eye as she laughed at his use of the phrase.

“Sounds funny when you say it,” she said.

“And what’s so funny, Bobby,” he murmured, cocking an eyebrow as he smirked at her.

She laughed, biting her lip, “your voice. All husky.”

“Husky, huh,” he laughed. “Ya like my voice, Bobby,” Tora stared at her from the corner of his eye, watching the blush creep up her neck as she sucked on her bottom lip, taking a deep inhale before clearing her throat.

“To answer your question,” she spoke slowly, carefully avoiding his gaze as he laughed through his nose—shit, so she like his voice, huh. He’d have to draw on that later. “No—I wouldn’t call them slumber parties. They’re like a kid thing.”

He tilted his chin back, shaking his head, letting it fall against the seat, “oh a _kid_ thing,” he grinned out the window before readjusting his eyes to watch her reflection, “well, shit, guess ya right. Dunno if I’d call our parties kid-friendly.” He smirked as she squeezed his hand, huffing his name. Watched her in the window as she glanced over at him, a smile warm on her face. She turned back to face the road as Tora thought over her words, the slumber parties. Frowning slightly, he caught his own face in the reflection of the glass. Did people really do that? Let their kids sleep in other people’s houses. Anythin’ could go wrong. “So, families just let their kids sleep away from ‘em?” He shook his head, “what if somethin’ happened to ‘em?” As the last question left his mouth, he wasn’t sure whether he meant the family left behind or the kid sleepin’ alone. Maybe both.

He didn’t turn to look at her—kept his eyes trained on the window, alternating between focusing on her face and letting his vision slip out to the sky as they curved around a bend in the road, slowing down as she pulled off to the side along the gravel at the edge of the grass beside a clearing along a smattering of trees—one much wider, taller than the rest. “But it’s Moonbright, not the city,” she said softly. Tora clenched his jaw, staring at the trunk where it split into three sections, a hollow at the heart of the tree where the branches splayed like arteries out and up to the bloody sky. Swallowed back the response he would’ve given if it’d been anyone but her. “What could happen?”

“Bobby,” he paused. Sighed, gathering the words carefully, lining them up along the back of his tongue before he spoke. “Bad shit happens to good people everywhere, sweetheart. Don’t make a difference where ya are. Moonbright, the city. Anywhere. Cause there are bad people everywhere who hurt others.”

She shook her head softly as he turned back to look at her, meeting her gaze. “You sound just like him.” He tilted his head, his brow furrowing as he watched her unbuckle, reminding himself to move, to unfasten his seatbelt same as her. She gave his hand one last squeeze and then she was pulling herself from the car, headed toward the trunk of the car. Tora blinked a couple times as his eyes tracked her in the rearview mirror before the trunk flipped open, a black shield blocking her from his view. He climbed from the car then, quickly closing his door and moving to help her at the back, taking the tote back from her hand as she collected the blankets up in her arms. “Could you…” she nodded toward the top of the trunk and Tora closed it wordlessly. _You sound just like him_ —who?

“Bobby…” he followed her out into the field in the direction of the tall tree, watching as she placed a hand on the trunk, her back rising and falling on a deep breath before she turned back to face him.

“My dad,” she said. “You sound like him.” Tora felt his eyebrows shoot up. Shit, what the fuck did _that_ mean? She laughed through her nose, smiling at whatever she saw on his face before sobering, her face falling into a neutral expression as her eyes flicked around his face. “Was always concerned about safety. _My_ safety,” she added, shaking her head softly. “He wouldn’t let me sleep over my friend’s houses either, even when he was sick in the hospital, Granny enforced the rule for him. I think his job made him paranoid, even after he’d left the city behind, after we’d moved to Moonbright…”

Tora huffed. “ _Tch,_ ya callin’ me paranoid, Bobby?” He stared at her, watched as her expression changed, melted, her mouth falling open, eyes wide as she seemed to realize what she’d implied. The blankets fell from her arms, could hear the grass dry under the heavy fabric as she took a step toward him, another, her hands reaching up to smooth over his chest.

“No.” Her eyes searched his, head tilted back, the setting sun seeming to light her hair on fire, the stray hairs around her braids like gold, liquid fuckin’ gold. How the fuck was she so beautiful? Her hands stilled on him as she took another breath, seeming like she was about to say something before biting her lip, glancing down at her fingers. Tora angled his head down, bringing one hand to her chin, guiding her to look back up at him, a silent question—knew she had more to say, just needed a little encouragement. “You’re two of the most selfless people I know—knew,” she frowned. “Know.” His eyebrows shot up—the fuck was she talkin’ about? Him? Selfless?

“ _Pfft_ , I’m sure ya dad was, Bobby,” he shook his head, “but I know—sure as shit not me.” He traced his finger up along her jaw, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear before running her braid between his index and thumb until he’d reached the tie at the end—holding onto her lightly as she shook her head at him.

“Yeah, that’s what a lot of selfless people think. So busy giving yourself away to all the people around you, you don’t notice you’re on empty until it’s too late.” She brought her hand up to circle his wrist, slipping her fingers between his before she dipped down to scoop up the blankets. “Come on, we’re going to miss it.”

“Miss what, sweetheart?”

“You’ll see,” she said, pulling him forward toward the tree.

“Bobby, ya lock the car?” he turned back slightly to look behind them at the Lexus. Fuck, how often did she leave shit unlocked? He’d have to talk to her ‘bout that—fuckin’ dangerous, _especially_ now that she was tied to the fuckin’ clan. What if Vincent sent him on another assignment far away where he couldn’t reach her in time? Tora swallowed the bile at the back of his throat— _don’t fuckin’ think like that, ya stupid fuck_.

“We’re not going far, look, already here,” she said, turning to hand him one of the blankets before spreading out the other at the base of the tall tree. She shrugged the little black bag from where it crossed over her chest, tossing it onto the blanket before turning to take the tote bag from him and setting it down as well. Tora tilted his head back up at the branches, letting his gaze trace the gnarled curves of the trunk up to where it split into three separate wide branches. He felt her fingers slip into his again, a tug in his shoulder as he let her pull him toward the tree.

“Bobby…” he said slowly, glancing down from the branches to look at her when she let go of his hand.

“How’s your leg?” she asked, her eyes wide on his thigh, as though she was trying to see through the denim to assess the wound.

“ _Pfft_ , leg’s fine, sweetheart,” he said. “What the fuck we doin’ though?”

She turned from him on a smile, “climbing.” Tora felt his eyebrows shoot up as she placed her hands on the tree, his eyes widening as he watched her find her footing on the trunk. He stepped quickly behind her, holding his hands out, his fingertips at the small of her back, his other hand hovering behind her thighs as she laughed. “I’ve got it, Mr. Bodyguard,” she said, “been doing this my whole life.”

Tora barked a laugh, letting his hands fall away from her slightly—still a little nervous, but, shit—she was right. Made quick and steady work up the trunk, her little fingers gripping the knots as she pulled herself up. He tried to focus on the path she was taking up the tree—clearly, she knew a good route, but his eyes kept falling to her ass where it swayed from side to side with each of her movements. He shoved a hand in his pocket, readjusting himself as he took a deep breath. Fuck, how’d she always manage to make him act like a fuckin’ teenager? “You coming?” she looked back down at him through her arms, her braids falling around her face as she stared at him with wide eyes. He smirked, tilting his head as he folded his arms loose across his chest, letting his gaze drag slowly from her eyes to her ass on full display.

“Dunno, Bobby. Enjoyin’ the view.” She huffed his name on a laugh, shaking her head and pulling her head back up to look up at the tree, moving again along the bark. She made her way up to the heart—the hollow like an open palm splitting the trunk—and, turning to face him, sat down, patting the narrow space beside her. “Bobby, no way I can fit there,” he smiled up at her, projecting his voice up the tree as he placed his hands on his hips looking up and down the tree doubtfully. “Big boy, ‘member?”

“I can be tiny,” she said, scooting closer to one of the three branches, barely makin’ any room at all. “You need more room?”

He laughed, “shit, sweetheart. Ya seen me?” he lifted one of his hands from his hips, gesturing down the length of his body and looking back up at her just in time to catch a smirk.

“Guess I’ll just have to sit on your lap,” she called down. “I mean, only if you want,” she smiled as he barked a laugh.

“Sweetheart, if I ever say no to that…” he trailed off, his right hand moving behind his back to touch the grip of the gun at his waistband, checking to make sure it was still secure as he flexed his quad, tapping his right foot on the ground a couple times—seemed fine. A little twinge, but definitely manageable—had performed more challenging feats in worse condition. Tora peered up at the lowest branches where they met the base of the trunk. Though the sutures seemed fine, it’d probably be a good idea to keep as much weight off of ‘em as possible as he climbed.

“If you ever say no to me in your lap, then I should…” she raised her voice at the end in question just as Tora widened his stance, lowering himself into a shallow squat, feet planted wide before pushing off the ground, could feel the power ripple from his calves up through quads and back around to his hamstrings as his palms connected with the branch lowest to the ground, fingers gripping the bark as his eyes flicked a potential path until to her.

“Ya should—” he grunted, pulling himself up and swinging his right leg over the branch, standing up and moving to grab the next branch, “—definitely kick me in the balls—” he heard her laugh and he grinned as he pressed his left foot against the trunk leveraging himself up onto the next branch so that he was only a couple arm-lengths from Bobby. “—For bein’—” Tora swung himself up onto another branch, reaching the heart of the tree as he pulled himself up to her eye level, the toes of his sneakers gripping the bark as he leaned most of his weight on his palms, his triceps on fire as he smirked at her, “a stupid fuckin’ idiot,” he finished.

She bit her lower lip on a smile as she reached out toward his face, holding his cheeks in her palms as she leaned in, felt her nose skim his and, a second later, the warm press of her lips to his as she opened her mouth slow, hot against his. He groaned softly into her, leaning forward as he felt her smile against his lips. Her fingers stroked up the base of his neck, through his hair where it pulled up into the bun, sending tingles down his spine as he inhaled sharply through his nose before pulling away from her lips. “Fuck, Bobby, gonna make me fall,” he said, looking around her.

She sat in a hollow where the tree dipped into one large knot, rimmed around the edge with weathered bark, thick like callouses, he thought. “Budge up, Bobby,” he grunted as he pulled himself up beside her, turning carefully as he tried to keep the weight off his right leg. She lifted up slightly, letting him stretch a leg out on either side of her, leaning his back against one of the three large sections of the trunk that split off into different branches. “Come here, sweetheart,” he murmured, opening his arms to her. A moment later, she’d settled her back into his chest, her body nestled between his legs as she leaned her head back against him. As much as he’d liked her holdin’ him on the steps of her Granny’s backyard, he loved havin’ her in his arms, the feel of her against his chest. He glanced up, watching how the sun hit the leaves around them in a way that made it look as though the tree were on fire—bright oranges, deep reds, vibrant golds, shivering in the breeze—the sound like the crinkly, dry pages of her father’s journals. 

“Look,” she pointed her finger out to the right of them. Tora squinted—could see over the treetops for miles, looked almost like a field of poppies, he thought, watching the leaves move. Looked like the ground was dancin’. “You see it?” Tora raised his gaze above the tree line, his eyes finding the place where the red sea of leaves met the horizon, lit in a fiery glow that melted against the indigo of night creeping down from above. He tilted his head, a soft huff escaping his lungs as his eyes found the skyline of the city far in the distance, a golden haze around the dark buildings.

“Yeah,” he murmured, tightening his arms around her as he pressed his cheek against the top of her head, turning slightly to kiss her braid without taking his eyes off the skyline. “Shit, it’s—” he swallowed at the memory of the guardrail, looking out over the city with her that night at Regina’s Peak. Had been so worried she wouldn’t understand. Her soft gasp when she’d seen it, _a little galaxy_ , she’d breathed. _A whole world down there, so small from up here._ He moved his head, glancing down at her face turned toward the city, her eyes alight with the dying sun, the golden light kissing her skin, her hair. Fuckin’ glowin’, a goddamn angel. “Beautiful, Bobby.”

She sighed against him, and he felt her hands begin to stroke up and down his forearms where he held her tight against his body. “Yeah,” she murmured. “It’s the only place you can see the city from out here.” She rocked her head against his chest, staring out at the horizon as Tora rubbed his thumbs along her sides where his hands rested against her ribs. “Used to come here with my dad—was the closest I could ever get to seeing it. We’d climb trees all over Moonbright, but this was always my favorite.” He felt her head nodding up and down slow against his chest. “He would’ve liked you,” she whispered.

“Ya said that, Bobby, but…” he sighed, feeling the weight of her against him as he breathed in then out, her body moving with his like a boat on the water. “Dunno, sweetheart. Hard to imagine.” It wasn’t. Wasn’t hard to imagine her family rejecting him, rejecting the idea of her bein’ with a fuckin’ thug. A killer. Monster.

“Oh, well, he told me so.”

Tora blinked, his brow furrowing as he tilted his head to peer around her face where her eyes met his, a smile tugging at her lips. “The fuck ya talkin’ ‘bout, Bobby? Like in one of ya dreams?”

She laughed softly through her nose, shaking her head against him. “No, the day you helped me home,” she said. He frowned. So, her dad _had_ been there? “I asked Granny to take a picture of my scrapes before she cleaned them up so I could show him when he got home from work. And I did,” she smiled. “I remember he was so excited I’d done the wheelie— _finally_ done one,” Tora felt her laugh against his chest, silent against the dry rustle of the leaves, the low sound of the crickets that had begun chirping in the grass below. “Told him about you, how you’d helped me home and do you know what he said?”

“ _Pfft_ , he wanna beat my punk ass?”

She let her head roll back against him on a laugh as he smiled at her, thumbs stroking her sides as she returned to running her hands up and down his forearms. “First thing he said was that he hoped that I’d thanked you. I told him I had—gave you a juice box and everything.” Tora laughed soft, dipping his chin against her shoulder and inhaling until the smell of her filled his lungs, could feel the wash of calm over him—almost like a cigarette, but without the bad shit, without the rotting. “Said he wished he could thank you, too. A good egg,” she added, so soft Tora almost didn’t hear it. Felt his heart seize at the words. Her dad had said that? Man hadn’t even met him, though—what the hell did he know?

“What’d ya Granny say,” he asked, hoping to distract her—there was no fuckin’ way he was worthy of her dad’s praise. Couldn’t let her build him up like that, shit. 

Poppy laughed, “I got in trouble.”

“Ah, see? Granny knows,” he said, his heart in his throat, a ball of tension all rotted and wound up in his stomach.

“Oh, no. You’ve got it wrong,” she rolled her head to look up at him, smiling. “See, I got in trouble for not inviting you inside, especially when I told her about your face.”

“My f—” he cut himself off, swallowing. The bruise, Vincent’s bat. The injury deep in his back twinged at the memory as Tora cracked his jaw.

“Mmm,” she hummed against him, could feel the sound radiate from the center of her back up through his chest as he tightened his arms around her, pressing his nose to her neck, his lips dipping to the skin just below the high, pillowy collar of her sweater. He breathed her in, closing his eyes—the sound of the trees all around them, stretching for miles, just him and Bobby in the tree, the crickets below. Another insect buzzing somewhere overhead. Could hear the flap of wings from a nearby branch.

“Ya deserve the world, Poppy,” he murmured against her, swallowing. “The whole goddamn world. Not me, not this.” He felt her fingers on his jaw as she guided his face to look at her where she’d turned to stare up at him.

“I love _you_ , Tora,” she breathed. “You.” He swallowed, mouth suddenly dry. Fuck, would he ever get used to hearin’ that? Those words from her mouth? His name? She loved him? “I don’t need the world, don’t want the world,” she murmured, “just you.” She tightened her hands on him, hugging him firmly to her where his arms rested just beneath the swell of her chest. He worried he might crush her if he tightened his hold on her any more than he already had, so he kissed the side of her head instead, swallowing back the lump in his throat. “Look,” she said, nodding her head toward the city again, “it’s time.”

Tora turned, looking back out where the sun lined up almost perfectly against the skyline, could see it actually moving down, sinking with each minute that passed, his eyes glancing up at the night sky that pulled down toward the trees, the stars overhead growing brighter, sharper above them, more than they could see in the city as dusk settled over the field, the leaves of the tree shadowing into darker reds, almost purple against the deep blue tinge of the sky directly overhead that Tora could see peeking through the branches. He looked back out at the city, resting his cheek against Bobby’s head as the sun slivered over the buildings, the haze growing wider just as it dipped out of sight.

“I love this time of day,” she murmured as a breeze blew her hair against his face, tickling his nose.

“Yeah? How’s that, sweetheart?”

“It’s like a window through time, where the night meets the day, the sun and the stars visible at the same time and the colors,” she hummed, “the opposites mixing—blue and orange, purple and gold. And it makes something incredible—you’d think it’d make mud, but it’s otherworldly. Beautiful.” She sighed against him, as they stared out at the sky. Tora wasn’t sure how many minutes passed before she was patting his knee, the horizon just faintly tinged a hazy red. “Think it’s picnic time,” she turned and smiled at him over her shoulder.

“‘Kay, Bobby,” he said as she lifted herself away from him, scooting so he could swing his leg back around. He glanced at a couple branches, gauging the distance before suddenly letting himself drop from the heart of the tree, catching himself on the branches once, twice, before he was back on the ground, turning to look back up at her.

“Tora,” she squeaked, her eyes wide, staring down at him. “You could’ve fallen! Your leg!”

He laughed, holding his arms up and out, “told ya, sweetheart. Leg’s fine, come on, I’ll catch ya.”

“Tora, I can climb,” she said, shaking her head as she scooted forward to the edge of the knot. “Don’t want to crush you.”

“Bobby.” He raised his eyebrows at her, once again holding his arms wide, gesturing down the length of his body. “Sweetheart, ya couldn’t crush me even if ya tried.” Tora watched as her shoulders moved up then down in a huff of an exhale before she looked back at him.

“You’re sure?”

He grinned up at her, “protein shakes, right, Bobby?”

She laughed, shaking her head at him and calling down, “you forgot salads.”

“Nah, Bobby. Didn’t forget,” he smirked. “I put the salads _in_ the shakes now. Gettin’ _imaginative_ ,” he tossed her word back up at her and watched as she laughed, the sound rolling out down the trunk, washing over him like the fuckin’ sun over the city. Goddamn, he loved her. “Come on, Bobby. Ready when ya are, sweetheart.”

He watched as she steadied herself against one of the branches. She glanced up out over the trees again toward the city once more, smiling before angling her head to stare at him for a moment, nodding. Tora lifted his arms up, bracing his right leg back behind him, the dry grass crunching under his sole as he inclined his head once up toward her—a moment later, she jumped, falling into him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for your comments!!! We’re dipping further into the main-main plot (lol finally) and it gives me the giggles to read your guesses 
> 
> ✨Come say hi on IG @melarela1223 where I post WIPs, inspo, and other random shit about my MPL obsession✨
> 
> Ch. 37: Picnic time!


	37. Special

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Poppy shares a piece of herself at a picnic.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This. Was. A mess. Lmao
> 
> Originally was supposed to be chapter 38 but then *sigh* I’m an indecisive Libra and everything got switched around. So here we are with Poppy, I guess. 
> 
> (It's all good, though. I love writing and especially love writing these characters/this story, so definitely a good mess to have haha)
> 
> As always, characters belong to the real MVP Lilydusk, brilliant creator of Midnight Poppy Land. Support her on Patreon! https://www.patreon.com/lilydusk

**Chapter 37**

Poppy leaned her back against Tora’s chest, looking out at the sky, watched as the last sliver of sun dipped below the buildings far in the distance, the tree holding them firm in the hollow like an open palm. She almost didn’t want to go back, maybe ever. He’d opened up to her, bared himself on the floor of his bedroom, the concrete walls like a fortress caging him in with all those—she swallowed, fingers tightening her hold on him as she rubbed his forearms. All those guns. She’d tried to push the image from her mind—Tora surrounded by weapons, his body hunched over, collapsed on the floor, the sobs splitting him open, cracking him wide even as he curled in on himself the way a wounded animal might. _I kill people, Bobby._ She breathed deep, feeling her body sink into his, his arms around her full of love. And the city—Poppy blinked at the skyline, watched as the sun’s corona hung like a golden haze over the place they’d come from, the place that’d hurt him, she was certain. The sky the color of her memory of his jaw, the bruise so swollen. She felt him shift slightly beneath her—how many times had he suffered? She could feel his pulse in his chest against her back. Steady. His breathing even, arms tight around her. How could this same man, the man who loved her, who had helped her again and again, giving himself again and again— _I kill people, Bobby._

Poppy closed her eyes, licking her lips against the breeze before she moved her hand to his thigh, carefully avoiding the place where she’d watched him needle his body closed last night, pulling himself back together—another wound. How many more did he have that she couldn’t see? Not so easily visible. Her eyes found the horizon again—a deep red, like the koi along his chest, down his arm. Tried to focus on that, his arms around her. _Bobby, I love ya._ He’d held her before, many times before, but it felt different now. Like she could feel the weight of his deeds heavy in the press of his arms.

She swallowed, thinking of the moment she’d found his gun the first time, the way he’d let her hold him on the kitchen floor, her fingers tracing the swirl of ink at his neck. His eyes had carried so much sadness, dragging him down like weights around his neck underwater. _Another time, Poppylan._ She swallowed, felt her heart speed up as her lips parted around the question again just as a gust of wind shook some of the dried leaves from the tree, swirling down to the ground where they caught in the grass beside their belongings. She sighed an exhale, knew he was right—now wasn’t the time, couldn’t ruin this moment. Special. _Another time._ “Think it’s picnic time,” she lifted her head, turning against his chest to find his face. She watched as he dragged his gaze away from the sky to meet her eyes. She smiled, warmed through at the thought that he understood why this place was so special.

“Kay, Bobby.” She sat up, immediately missing the warmth of his chest against her back. His arms parted from around her, letting her unfold her body from his. Both of their movements slow, almost like he might feel the same way, like maybe he also would have stayed in the tree forever if they could, up and away from the city. Up and away from whatever lurked beneath the haze of the dying sun, that had hurt him.

He moved his leg from around her as she pressed herself to the bark of one of the opposite branches, making room for him to maneuver in the tight hollow of the tree. As she pulled both of her legs over the edge of the knot, readying herself to descend, Tora suddenly dropped from the branch. She gasped, her heart nearly shooting up her throat as she watched his body swing by his arms, lithe, his hands spreading wide along the branches as he navigated his way down in just a few movements, almost like he wasn’t even touching the tree on his way down, some of his hair streaming up behind him. He easily dropped to the ground, the fingertips of his left hand skimming the dry grass before he quickly stood back up, turning his face up to look at her.

“Tora, you could’ve fallen! Your leg!” she called down to him. She could feel her eyes widening as he laughed, his features warm, open. Even though she couldn’t see from up in the tree, she knew his eyes were crinkling, his dimples on full display. He’d been smiling more and wider since they’d left the city than she’d ever seen before, the lines on his face taking longer to smooth out. 

She watched as he raised his arms up to her, almost like he was waiting for her to jump, “told ya, sweetheart,” his voice carried up the length of the tree over the soft rustle of the leaves, “leg’s fine. Come on, I’ll catch ya.”

She felt her eyes widen, her mouth open in surprise—no way. No way was she jumping onto him. Even if he wasn’t injured, her weight would crush him, hurt him—that was a question she didn’t need answered. After all, she thought shaking her head, she wasn’t petite by any means. Her hand moved to the weathered bark that rimmed the edge of the hollow as she scooched toward the edge, “Tora, I can climb. Don’t want to crush you.”

“Bobby,” his voice was firm, giving her pause, the two syllables cutting up from the ground as she looked back at his face, meeting his eyes as he held his arms out wide, palms open as he swept the air down the length of his body. “Sweetheart,” her breath caught in her chest at his nickname for her, the tenderness in his voice every time he said it. She watched as he shook his head softly, “ya couldn’t crush me even if ya tried.”

Poppy hadn’t realized she’d been holding her breath until she felt it leave her lungs in a rush, the bark rough under her fingertips. Something told her to trust him—a feeling that he meant it, her thumbs stroking the bark as she watched him nod. “You’re sure?”

A smile split his face, touching his eyes, she could tell even from up in the tree, “protein shakes, right, Bobby?”

She felt the tension leave her shoulders as she laughed—always knew how to make her laugh, when she needed it most. “You forgot salads,” she smiled down at him as he smirked.

“Nah, Bobby,” he shook his head once, “didn’t forget. I put the salads _in_ the shakes now.” He dipped his head down slightly to emphasize the word _in_ , “gettin’ imaginative.” She threw her head back on a laugh, recognizing the word from the day on the steps of the city, their first kiss. He seemed to remember everything she’d ever said to him—how did he do that? Listened to her so closely, all his attention turned toward her. Like she was the only thing that mattered when he was with her. “Come on, Bobby,” he called again, his arms raising up again, fingers opening and closing twice, “ready when ya are, sweetheart.” She blinked looking at him for a moment before her gaze pulled toward the horizon, the remnants of the red sun streaking over the city as the indigo of night settled heavy overhead, fiery like the leaves of the poison sumac she’d shown him earlier, or like the way he’d made her feel when he scooped her up in his arms along the side of the road, his voice raw with the confession. _Bobby, I love ya._ Her lips pulled up at the memory, blinking against the tears that stung her eyes as she remembered the field of poppies on her way back to the city just a couple of weeks ago. The feel of her father watching overhead—knew he was here, too. Somehow, some way. She turned back to look at Tora, his arms held wide for her, this man she loved, choosing her. This man she loved, groomed from boyhood to—Poppy took a breath, nodding, watched as he mirrored her affirmation, and then she leapt, fingers leaving the bark, her feet pressing off against the tree as she tumbled into him.

Tora caught her, whirling her around once, clutching her to his chest as she gripped his shoulders, could feel the tension in his muscles shifting as he held her steady before stilling, the road behind him as he held her gaze. It wouldn’t take much movement at all, she realized as though through a haze, heady from him, the scent of him like the earth, his eyes burning like the sun they’d watched set over the city. Her favorite place in Moonbright—had shared it with him and he’d understood. Knew he’d understood. She watched his throat move as he swallowed. Just as she was about to lean forward to kiss him, wanted so badly to feel his lips again, she felt his arms loosening around her, letting her slide back down his body to the ground. She sucked in a breath softly, looking up at him. Searching his eyes for signs of pain as she ran her fingers down his arms before catching his hands in hers, “did I hurt you?”

A shadow of a frown passed over his face before he was smirking at her, “big boy, ‘member, Bobby?” he lifted his elbows out to the side, fingers still twined with hers, his arms like wings around his body. “Muscles.” She watched as he flexed his upper arms, his biceps growing larger under his sweatshirt as his tongue swiped out over his lips once. A deflection. She huffed softly as she remembered last night, realizing he wouldn’t tell her if he was hurt unless he was backed into a corner. Hadn’t said a word until he was literally bleeding _on_ her, until he couldn’t ignore it anymore, couldn’t pretend like he was okay. How many other wounds?

Suddenly, his face was right in front of hers, his eyes again burning into her own as she met his gaze. “Bobby, I weigh a shit ton more than ya,” he said, his brow set heavy, the smirk wiped from his features. “Just pulled myself up a goddamn tree for ya, sweetheart.” She bit her lip at the name, like the feeling of being wrapped up in him. “Besides,” he murmured, tilting his head as he brought one of his hands up to hold the end of her braid, tugging gently, “like holdin’ ya.” His voice was low, husky. Barely audible over the rustle of the leaves in the tree, the crickets in the field. A secret, just for her.

She smiled at him, couldn’t stop the grin as she bit her lip harder. “Hold me while we eat?” Poppy bit the inside of her mouth, trying harder to stop the grin, couldn’t help it. She felt weightless with him—how did he always manage to do that? She inhaled sharply as he bent toward her, the warmth of his arms suddenly pressing around her back in an embrace as he pulled her up off the ground and into his chest. She laughed as she felt his arm move to cup her bottom, holding her secure against his body as she wrapped her limbs around him. Had never felt this way with anyone, loved the feeling of being enveloped by his warmth, his body so strong. The feel of him against her, the hair that had escaped his bun blowing gentle in the breeze, tickling her face as he grinned at her—could see the soft wrinkles around the corners of his eyes now, his dimples. She couldn’t stop herself, didn’t want to stop herself as she leaned into him, pressing her lips to his, felt him smiling against her, could feel his jaw shifting under her palms as he walked them toward the blanket. With each of his steps, she could feel the fat along her thighs shaking against him, her breasts moving against his chest, but she turned her mind to his kiss, his arms. He didn’t seem to mind.

A moment later, his hands loosened on her, his palms sliding over her butt as she dropped to the ground. But she wasn’t ready to let go of him, so she slipped her hand down his arm and into his palm as she bent down to remove her shoes at the edge of the blanket, the one they used to bring to the beach for weekend picnics. She smiled at the memory as she waited for him to toe of his sneakers, placing them beside hers. His feet shaking the shoes off gently, the soles crunching just so against the dry grass. Watching him, his arms steady on hers, she wondered if he would ever want to see the ocean with her one day—there was something magical about the beach in Moonbright, were so many special places she wanted to share with him and he’d seemed to like them all so far. She felt his palms warm against the shoulders of her sweater as he stepped around her, maneuvering her body so that he could step around her up to the tree before lowering himself on a soft grunt. He winced, and Poppy worried her lip between her teeth, could feel her brows pull together before she quickly smoothed her face—she didn’t want him to see her worrying. Again, thinking of his injuries. _How many?_

Poppy knelt and smiled as she watched him spread his legs for her, one of his knees drawing up the way he’d sat on the floor of her kitchen, his back against the counters eating strawberries whole, stem and all. _Pesta-huh?_ Poppy swallowed her smile—eyes glancing at the patch on his neck. How many things were poisoning his body? Slowly killing him. And he didn’t seem to care. Or maybe it was guilt, she wondered as he opened his arms to her, “come here, sweetheart.” She felt her heartbeat speed up at his words, the way he beckoned for her, an open hug as she crawled into him, nestling against his knee, her legs pulled together against his inner thigh, feet pressing into the arch of his left foot and the blanket. The ground was cold, hard beneath them, almost damp through the blanket. It’d be uncomfortable, she thought, if she weren’t pressed up against him, his heat radiating through her body.

Poppy reached for the tote bag with the food she’d packed, her heart speeding up at the thought that he’d be seeing the rice balls in just a few moments. Couldn’t help it as Julri’s face swam to the front of her mind, _why would you think I’d like this, that I’d want this, Pops? We’re not kids anymore, grow up._ She closed her eyes against the memory, setting her jaw before blinking back over at Tora, the man who seemed to understand—he would understand, she told herself. “How’s your leg?”

He laughed softly, letting his head hang forward slightly before he looked up at her through his lashes, smiling, “told ya, m’fine, Bobby.” She searched his eyes for a moment before turning back to the tote bag. Her hand caught on something smooth, heavy, could feel herself frowning in confusion as she pulled out a bottle of wine. Her lips pulled up at the thought that he’d gone out to buy this for her, for them? When had he slipped it into the bag?

“Where’d this come from?” she glanced at him, holding the bottle up. “Thought you didn’t drink.”

As he laughed through his nose, she felt his left hand rise up to cup the back of her head, his fingers resting between her braids. She liked the way it felt when he touched her, when he touched her anywhere, his thumb moving soft against her part, smoothing the hair on either side. She knew if she closed her eyes, she’d forget herself, would lose herself in the feeling of his hand on her head. “I don’t, sweetheart. S’from Quince. Night we met, or shit,” he brought his eyes back up from the bottle, meeting her gaze, a small laugh of disbelief, a smile as he reached for the bottle, lifting it from her fingers, “second time we met.” She watched as he grasped the neck, flicking his wrist so that the body of the glass rolled up along his forearm, turning it over like he was just as amused as she was by the surprise wine in the tote. “Ya asked why I was there in the first place since I don’t drink,” he nodded to himself, seemingly lost in the memory from a few weeks back. Not even a month. How had they gotten here, not even a month? “Was on a run to the liquor store for him. Kept textin’ me what shit to get. I dunno,” he sighed, handing it back to her, “all look the fuckin’ same.”

Poppy smiled, turning the bottle back to the fancy blue label, the elegant script with French words she couldn’t read. She didn’t know him that well, but she had a feeling Quincey could actually read them, would know the difference. A breeze blew some of her hair loose where it’d come undone from her braid, tickling her face as Tora shifted, his wounded leg extended out in front of him. She watched as he lifted his hips slightly, the bulge of him in his pants pressing an outline along his jeans, not hard, just…him. She smirked, “yeah, that’s why it’s better to just get the biggest one.”

His eyebrows shot up as his lips widened in a smile, a laugh he tried and failed to bite down before his eyes found hers again. Poppy swallowed at the heat she saw, like his irises were on fire, knew he was thinking the same thing, “ya’d know all about that, huh, sweetheart,” he husked, voice scratching on the nickname.

She swallowed, feeling the blush spread along her cheeks, her neck and chest, her nipples tightening against the fabric of her bra as she remembered the way he’d climbed the tree up to her, the way he’d jumped down—effortless. His muscles rippling under his sweatshirt, the heat of him against her. “Okay, Mr. Six-three.” She found herself wishing they were back at her place for a moment, her bare skin against his. She placed the bottle down beside his leg, carefully avoiding the wound along his thigh. “So, what made you choose that one?” She kicked herself inwardly a moment later when she remembered he’d already told her that Quincey had told him which ones to get. _Jeez, Poppylan, focus_.

He smirked at her, “didn’t, Bobby. Cute hamster nearly crashed through the door.” She looked up at him, her lips parting. “Just grabbed the closest shit, didn’t even look.” So, what, he’d seen her from the start? Had been just as distracted as she’d been by him when her eyes had found him towering over the shelves?

She cleared her throat lightly at the thought, “you still have it, though.”

She watched him as he sighed, his eyebrows raising as if to say, _funny story_. “Yeah, turns out they’re _not_ all the same.” She smiled at him as he laughed to himself, “Quince didn’t want it and, I dunno, just…”

Poppy waited for a couple moments as his eyes focused somewhere above the blanket, lost in thought. The wind whistled around the width of the tree, blowing the hair around his shoulders, sweeping it up around the hood of his sweatshirt that pillowed between his neck and the trunk.

She felt her lips pull up as she watched him, so relaxed, unguarded as he leaned against the tree she’d climbed too many times to count. This special place. “So, you want to drink it? It’s fancy,” she noted, glancing at the bottle as she took out the container with the rice balls and the bakery box of sweets, “not a screw top, and I don’t have anything to open it with.” She shook her head—if he’d told her about it, she could have grabbed a corkscrew from Granny’s—the older woman certainly had plenty of them. Poppy smiled to herself, remembering the time she and Erdene had accidentally bought a bottle with a cork—one of the reasons they’d switched to boxes. “But Erdene showed me this trick once where you smack it with a shoe…”

She looked up as Tora laughed, smiling at the way his head fell back against the tree, his shoulders shaking, one arm still around her, could feel his hand moving against her head. “A shoe?” he brought his head back down to smile at her before licking his lower lip, “nah, Bobby. Sounds like a shitload of broken glass.” He shook his head, the smile softening on his lips, “no way this day’s endin’ with more stitches.” Poppy pressed her lips together—he had a point, though she’d been excited at the thought of drinking with him, of seeing him loosen up more. Would he be a cuddler? She bet he would—he was already so affectionate with her, his hands always seeming to find her fingers, her arms, her hair. Even her face, _pfft_.

She looked back down at the container in her hands, her fingers running along the sides of it as she carefully lifted the lid, trying to calm her breathing. Tora wasn’t Julri. Even if he didn’t like them, he wouldn’t make her feel the way Julri had. She knew that, she told herself. She knew that. “Here,” she extended the container toward him, keeping her eyes on the tiger head in the box, the little stripes of seaweed she’d thought were cute. “They’re rice balls,” she murmured, voice growing softer when he didn’t move, didn’t speak. The crickets stupidly loud, a cruel joke. Maybe this was a bad idea—it _did_ look childish, she realized. Suddenly, his fingers were picking up the tiger, gentle, like the rice ball was alive, could feel his touch. She kept her eyes on his hands, didn’t dare look at his face. “It’s you. I mean—” she swallowed, taking a breath. “I tried.” A laugh worked its way up from her chest, maybe from the nerves. Her heart was pounding, palms sweaty against the bottom of the container as she rubbed her thumbs along the edge. He still hadn’t said anything—Poppy looked up at him, watching as he stared intently at the tiger, his jaw tight. _Oh no. No, no_ , “I promise it tastes better than it looks,” she didn’t dare to breathe, eyes on his face as he looked up at her.

She watched as he put the tiger back in the container, his fingers brushing hers as he lifted the plastic from her hold, setting in softly on the blanket, his palm at the back of her head easing her forward as he leaned closer, his other hand falling warm on her thigh, spread wide, his fingers gripping around to the back of her leg. She held his forearm against her as she closed the distance between their faces, her lips meeting his a moment later. Her heart pounded in her ears as she breathed hard through her nose, trying to squash the burning feeling at the back of her throat. Had he liked it? She tightened her fingers on his arm as she felt his palm hold her more firmly to his lips, his mouth slow against hers, tasted vaguely sweet still, the ghost of the strawberry juice still on his tongue. She kept her eyes closed for a moment after he’d pulled away, feeling his breath on her face before she blinked at him, finding his eyes in the dim light of dusk. “Bobby, I love it,” he breathed as she felt her breath catch in her throat, “can’t wait to try it.”

She couldn’t help the grin that worked its way over her face. _He liked it_ — _no,_ she realized, feeling like she might float away, _he_ loved _it._ She ran her fingers down his arm on her way to pick up her rice ball from the container. “What’s ya animal, Bobby,” he asked, picking his up. She kept her eyes on the one in her hands, the rice glistening, sticky, cooked perfectly in a way that Poppy’d never been able to recreate. She was glad Tora was trying one with Granny’s rice, for the taste, definitely, but it also made her smile to share with him something from her family. Extra special.

“I don’t know,” she said, peering down at her rice ball, laughing to herself at how almost sad it looked compared to his. “Spent more time making yours, just kind of rolled mine into a ball with ears.” She knew it’d taste good, was looking forward to eating Granny’s cooking again—it’d been so long.

“Shit, sweetheart,” he said, his hand reaching out to her, holding the tiger toward her, “why don’t ya take mine?”

She shook her head, pulling her rice ball closer to her, out of his reach as she smiled at him, the look of concern on his face. He hadn’t even hesitated—giving. Always giving so much of himself and she was just trying to give back. “No,” she murmured, “that one’s special for you.” She looked back down at the ball in her hands—she’d shaped hers into the bear she’d eaten so many times through childhood. Simple, bare bones but so much love poured into the little head. “Used to make these with my dad,” she glanced over at the tiger in his fingers, smiling as she imagined what this trip might be like if he were still alive. Would Tora want to meet him? Though maybe it’d be too soon, she laughed to herself— _definitely too soon, jeez, Poppylan. Clingy much?_ Though, she knew Dad would probably get a kick out of finally meeting the boy who’d helped her all those years ago, and at a time when he’d just started to grow ill—none of the doctors understanding what was wrong. The beginning of their nightmare. This boy who’d helped her. “They’re meant to pull you up when you’re feeling down,” she said, thinking of her father’s hands carefully rolling the rice, patting it together as he shaped a head for her, a head for him. “But you have to eat the whole thing for it to work.”

“Ya think I’m down, Bobby?”

She drew her eyes up to him just as a leaf from the tree above fluttered down, catching somewhere in her hair. She watched as Tora reached out, fingers carefully pulling it off from where it’d landed on her, opening his hand and letting the breeze carry it away. So gentle, every move around her so gentle, like he was worried he might startle her or scare her away. _You don’t have to worry_ , she thought, reaching out to touch his jaw where it’d bruised the day they’d first met. He’d been down that day, she knew. Knew whatever’d hurt him then still hung around his shoulders like dead weight. Her eyes fell to the swirl of ink along his neck, obscured by the patch he’d let her affix to his skin earlier that morning—had it really been just that morning? It still looked so familiar. She looked back up at his face, hadn’t seen him smile as much as he had that day, even with the tears by the creek, it’d seemed like he’d managed for a moment to duck out from the weight around his shoulders. His whoop of joy, boyish, after she’d told him she loved him on the side of the road. His lips hot against hers, arms holding her tight to his body as he poured everything unspoken into the kiss. Did she make him feel lighter, too? “Sometimes.”

He lifted his chin toward her, considering her as she let her hand fall from his face, from the memory of his teenaged self, hurting at the end of her driveway, his fists on her handlebars as he pushed her home. The way he’d walked with a hunch to one side, and how she couldn’t help but think of the stray cats that sometimes hung out in the gas station parking lot, the ones she’d sneak rice to when she’d tell Granny she was practicing on the bike.

“So how do ya eat these, Bobby? Wanna get it right,” he murmured, turning the tiger in his fingers. Poppy smiled, shifting closer to him at his attentiveness, all his focus on the rice ball, almost like he was worried about messing this up for her. Like he really _had_ loved it. Loved her.

She wiggled her feet closer to him, burrowing between the blanket and his arch as she held her rice ball up, “you just go for the head.”

He laughed, the tiger shaking in his hands slightly, “shit, Bob,” she smiled at the nickname that had continued to grow on her—loved the silly things he called her. She quickly bit into her rice ball so he wouldn’t see her smile and watched as he did the same, her eyes on his mouth as he bit into the ear of the tiger, some of the seaweed caught between his lips before he licked it into his mouth with a swipe of his tongue. Her eyes searched his face for a reaction, felt her chest soften as he smiled, his eyebrows raising slightly as he went to take another bite. Poppy did the same, focusing on her fingers, trying not to stare at him as he ate, but she kept stealing glances as the tiger became smaller and smaller until his hands were empty. She smiled to herself, afraid to ask if he’d liked it, didn’t need to hear it though. He’d eaten the whole thing. Some of the rice had stuck to her fingers, and she absently picked it off as she reached for the box of sweets, her hands stilling briefly on the lid. She hadn’t even shared this with Julri—meant too much. “So, what’s so special about these cakes, Bobby?” his voice was quiet, encouraging. “Still never told me.”

Poppy took a breath—there was no going back now, and she didn’t think she wanted to anyway. He’d eaten the tiger, Granny’s rice, had taken the coin from her hand, dropping it into the creek. Had asked for her music, recognized the difference between the playlists like he’d actually listened to it. Had climbed the tree, understood how special this place was, his fingers over her father’s written words.

“We used to get these on the weekend,” she said carefully, untucking the lid and opening the box toward him so he could see inside, “eat them at Granny’s all together.” She swallowed against the voice that reminded her _not all_. Of course, she had that vague memory of breakfast with _all_ , sitting on her mother’s lap as Granny and Dad laughed at something. A flash of happiness like the color yellow—always the color yellow when she thought of family, of home.

She looked up as he laughed, following his gaze to the dinosaur cookie she’d gotten for him, smiling at his reaction—clearly good. “Not the cookie, that’s special for you,” she said as she looked back up at him, her heart stuttering at the look on his face—like this was a first for him. She quickly dug the spoon out of the tote bag—had only packed one and, she hoped he didn’t mind. They’d shared glasses before, and his tongue had been inside her mouth, after all. _Inside her_. She blushed at the thought, holding a bite out to him, “I know you’re not, like, the biggest fan of sweets,” she said softly, “but it’s worth it.” She swallowed, tearing her eyes from the cake to look at him, “pinky.”

“I’m sure it is, Bobby,” his eyes met hers over the spoon, holding her gaze as he leaned forward, his lips pulling the cake from the spoon, a thin smear of frosting left behind as he smiled, swallowed. Licked his lips. Her heart felt ready to burst as she dipped the spoon back into the cake, taking a bite for herself, couldn’t stop the soft moan that worked its way up her throat. Special. Everything about this moment, this place, this man. Special.

“Tastes like family,” she murmured, could feel her lips pulling up, “like home.” She hesitated for a moment, keeping her eyes fixed on the cake, the corner that she’d dipped the spoon against, a small crescent they’d shared together. “And now like you.” Her voice was barely more than a whisper, could feel her heart fluttering her breathing fast as she licked at the remnants of sweetness on her lips. “You should try the cookie,” she said quickly, holding the box toward him, eyes on the cardboard, willing him to take it. _Please just take it, please_. She wasn’t sure what she’d meant by it, didn’t know what she’d say if he asked. He felt like home, but that was stupid, she knew that was incredibly stupid. She couldn’t tell him that—Julri had always complained about how clingy she was. Didn’t want to scare off this man who’d just told her he loved her, couldn’t bear the thought of him leaving, another person leaving. They hadn’t even talked about what they were, what this was. What was this?

Tora reached into the box, picking up the dinosaur with his fingers. As his attention was focused on the cookie, she looked up at him. Could see the teenager in him, his features more angular now, but his eyes—the same eyes. Kind yet burning with emotion, so much emotion laid bare. The rest of his face closed off much of the time, but his eyes always revealed more. She thought of the way he’d looked at her by the bridge when she’d finally told him she remembered. The relief. He looked up at her, eyes widening slightly when he realized she’d been staring at him. “Why didn’t you tell me?” she breathed. “That you knew me?”

She watched as he tilted his head back slightly, amber eyes roaming her face before he shrugged. “I mean, I didn’t know for sure,” he murmured, looking down at the dinosaur in his hands, his fingers moving along the edges. “Couldn’t believe it, ya know. What the fuck are the odds?”

“Yeah.”

He looked up at her again, “besides,” his lip pulled to the side, “would’ve raised questions like what the fuck I was doin’ in Moonbright to begin with. And if ya weren’t the strawberry girl, then—”

Poppy frowned, _huh?_ “The what?”

His mouth hung open for a moment before his chin fell against his chest, his shoulders shaking in a silent laugh as he looked at the dinosaur again. “Uh, strawberry girl,” he looked back up at her on a smile. “Ya gave me a strawberry juice. Had never had it before. Didn’t know ya name.”

So, he’d liked that, too? “And you actually liked it,” she murmured, almost to herself in disbelief, remembering the way he’d scoffed at her, unsure what to do with the box she’d handed him. “And here I thought you were just humoring me,” she said, could almost feel his hand mussing up her hair all those years ago. “The annoying kid who almost ran you over.”

He reached out to her, his fingers finding her hair, gently tucking a strand behind her ear, “nah, Bobby. Never lied to ya,” he murmured. “S’good shit.”

She smiled, looking down at her hands, the cake in the box, the strawberries on top. The way he seemed to like the fruit more than other foods. “Wait,” she tilted her head, letting her voice trail off before meeting his gaze again as he waited for her to continue. “Do you drink strawberry juice—eat strawberries,” she said, pausing to make sense of what she was asking, “because of me? You liked it that much?” She took a breath through her open mouth, not daring to let herself hope. Had that moment meant as much to him as it had to her? There was no way…and yet. She took in the way his jaw tightened, his throat moving against a swallow before he took a breath, his eyes shifting back down to the dinosaur in his hands.

“Dunno if it’s really ‘bout the juice, Bobby.” She felt her breath catch in her lungs, her heart in her throat. If it hadn’t been the juice, then what—“could’ve been any flavor. Anythin’.” She felt her brows draw up to the center of her face, could feel the breeze stinging her eyes—was it the breeze? She listened to the sound of her heart in her ears, the rustle of the leaves, could barely hear him over the crickets as he whispered, “was a gift.” Poppy closed her mouth, so dry. Suddenly so dry, the sugar from the cake almost too sweet as she stared at him, waiting as he gathered his thoughts. _A gift_. So small. Could hear her father’s words on the wind, _the thought that counts_. The thought had never been enough for Julri. And here, this hulking man sitting against her special tree, fingers cradling a dinosaur cookie, his knee bent up so she could rest between his legs—was always thinking of her, wasn’t he. Was always going out of his way to help her, opening doors, bringing her plants, giving them love—she’d seen the way he cared for Bullony. The kindness, his warmth radiating. She loved him. Felt her heart shatter at the idea that a juice box would mean so much to him. Remembered his discomfort when she’d thanked him at the foot of the driveway, her bike on the ground. How foreign it’d seemed to him—to be thanked. To be given rather than taken, even something as insignificant as a juice box.

“Ya called me a good egg.” He met her eyes, liquid gold, she could see them swimming as her own vision blurred. The stars glinting like little pricks of light in his gaze. “Didn’t know me from shit,” he murmured. “This fuckin’ thug with a fucked-up face drivin’ a creppy fuckin’ unmarked van from outta town.” She watched as he hung his head again, shaking it softly, his fingers stroking the edges of the cookie. “Ya said sorry when ya almost ran into me—not out of fear, Bobby,” he emphasized the word _fear_ , like it was what he’d expected, what he’d grown accustomed to. How many people feared him? _I kill people, Bobby_. “Just cause ya hadn’t meant to hurt me.” She felt her heart seize at the thought, at the way he said it. He’d been a kid, groomed—she inhaled, trying to steady her breathing, her heart as she watched him shake his head again. “Shit, ya _spoke_ to me. Ya know how many strangers have ever spoken to me in my life? Like, friendly and shit?” She tightened her jaw, swallowing hard. There was still so much she didn’t know about him, clearly so much pain.

“Been countin’, Bobby. Just a handful of people,” he said, “but only two of ‘em who weren’t familiar with the clan—the mafia.” She vaguely registered his hand moving in her peripheral vision before he looked back up at her. “Who didn’t know me by my other name, my reputation.” She swallowed. _Other name?_ “Only two people, Bobby. Two people who treated me fuckin’ normal, made me feel fuckin’ normal,” he said, his voice croaking against the crickets as the wind blew flyaway hairs from his bun against his shoulders. She watched his features blur, couldn’t move as she thought of that. _Normal_. “Let me forget—” Poppy blinked, felt her breath return to her at his unfinished sentence, his voice breaking off suddenly against whatever he was remembering from his past.

She reached up, placing her fingers over the swirl of ink on his neck, the symbol of his work, his deeds. The same symbol on the neck of that man who’d been with Quincey. “Two,” he repeated, taking a breath as he met her eyes, clenching his jaw briefly like he was convincing himself to go on. “The girl who gave me a juice box ten years back,” he murmured, “and the woman I met a couple weeks ago in a liquor store.” Poppy bit her lip, her fingers tightening on his skin, “too damn short to reach the top shelf. Fuckin’ smiled at me—at _me_ ,” he said it again, disbelief coloring his voice, barely a whisper as he held his palm up to sweep down his body, “talked to me, fuckin’ laughed with me, Bobby.” He smiled then, his voice soft, “let me buy her a box of wine.”

She watched as he reached out to her, tucking her hair behind her ear again where it’d slipped out against her cheek in the breeze, his other palm cupping the back of her hand against his neck, so wide, warm over her skin, could feel his callouses on her knuckles as he slipped his fingers between hers. “And ya know,” he breathed, she could feel his voice vibrating in his throat, “she hadn’t asked for help either time even though I know she needed it. Felt like time just…” her eyes flicked back and forth between his, not quite willing to believe that he’d felt the same way she had, not until he said it, “stood still.” Poppy felt the breath leave her lungs, one of her eyes leaking a stream of tears down her cheek before she could stop it, his thumb reaching out to wipe at it as he laughed once, a soft smile on his face.

“What?” she whispered as his eyes found hers again.

“How many more times ya think we’re gonna end up cryin’ on the ground,” he asked. She laughed. He was right, she realized, wiping at her eye.

“Well, with our track record so far,” she sighed, “maybe just a couple more million?”

When she looked back up at him, his face was unreadable, brows turned up around a smile, “come here, sweetheart.”

She smiled, loved hearing him say that, wanted to hear him say it forever. Like he craved her touch as much as she did his. As he spread his knees wider, she shifted her body up against his, pressing her torso along him, fisting her hands in his hoodie, burying her nose in his chest as he breathed deeply, arms circling her and pulling her tight to him. _Home_. “I fuckin’ love ya, Bobby,” he murmured low, his voice a rumble against her face as she breathed in the scent of earth, the woods, stale cigarettes.

“I love you, too,” she murmured into his chest as his arms stroked up and down her back. Poppy leaned up, her nose finding the soft material of the patch where it moved against his swallows, his breathing—pressing a kiss, then another, another against the lower lobe of the swirl of ink, her fingers stroking his chest, feeling for his heart, the soft thumps beneath his hoodie—his lifeblood. He was safe here, his arms around her, back against the tree. No one but them in the clearing, probably for miles. Wished she could stay here with him indefinitely, knew that if she could pause this moment forever, she would in a heartbeat.

She felt his palm along the back of her neck as he guided her head out from where she’d tucked herself in his shoulder. They watched each other for a moment—he was beautiful, she thought. The night sky opening up above him, the muted reds and golds of the leaves shivering overhead, and his eyes on fire. Burning into her as he slowly leaned forward, his lips meeting hers as her fingers tightened on his sweatshirt. There was nothing but him—nothing. She clutched at him, didn’t care if it was clingy, she needed to feel him, to be held by him, to hold him tight.

She shifted against him, kneeling between his knees as she pressed him back against the tree, a moan slipping from her throat as he kissed her hard, his tongue hot on her lips as she felt his palms rise up and down her body before squeezing her bottom, the backs of her thighs, could feel his hands so wide, so warm as he pulled her down into him on a groan. Felt his fingers in the hem of her sweater, tangling over and over, a silent question. She nodded against him, her lips firm on his, nodded again as he pushed beneath the fabric, his callouses rough against her skin as he ran his hands up her back, could feel his arms pressing against her spine, “Bobby.”

She moved her lips along his jaw, tracing the angles of his face with kisses as she brought her fingers to the zipper of his hoodie, opening him up as she slipped a hand inside, so warm, the heat practically rolling off of him as she palmed the muscles of his chest, his heart. She slipped her hands along his shoulders as her lips dipped to his neck again, pushing the hoodie off of him as he quickly sat up from the tree, his arms holding her steady, knees bending slightly to grip her before he quickly pulled the sleeves from his arms, his hands only gone for a moment before he was hugging her to him again, lips warm on her mouth as she brought her fingers to his shoulders, up to tangle in the hair at the nape of his neck.

She could feel his hunger, finding herself surprised again at how much he still seemed to want her, that it hadn’t been about the chase. Choosing her, she realized. Something in her gut telling her as she moved to pull the sweater from her body—his hands helping eagerly—that even without sex, he’d be here at the tree with her. As the warm material left her body, Poppy felt goosebumps trailing up her skin or maybe it was from the way his thumbs rubbed her nipples through her bra. She hummed as he kissed her throat, down to her chest, his hands on her body—loved his hands on her body. Wanted to feel him all around her, inside her. “Bobby. Shit, sweetheart” he panted against her skin, his nose in the dip of her shoulder, “how much ya wanna keep on?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heh, sorry. It wasn’t gonna end there, I swear, but I really hated what I’d written so I just cut it all so now it lives in my “cut smut” doc lol
> 
> ✨Come say hi on IG @melarela1223 where I post WIPs, inspo, and other random shit about my MPL obsession✨
> 
> Ch. 38: I mean...Tora's got a lot of thoughts about what's been happening.


	38. Here forever

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tora reveals a piece of himself to Bobby under the stars.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y'all were too fuckin' sweet with your comments on the last chapter, made me all emotional and shit ❤️❤️
> 
> This one's NSFW heh 
> 
> As always, characters belong to the real MVP Lilydusk, brilliant creator of Midnight Poppy Land. Support her on Patreon! https://www.patreon.com/lilydusk

**Chapter 38**

“Come on, Bobby. Ready when ya are, sweetheart.”

He watched as she steadied herself against one of the branches. She glanced up out over the trees again toward the city once more, smiling before angling her head to stare at him for a moment. Her eyes were bright in the dying light, the leaves of the trees shadowing her body, her face as she nodded. Tora lifted his arms up, bracing his right leg back behind him, the dry grass crunching under his sole as he inclined his head once up toward her—a moment later, she jumped, falling into him.

Tora reached up to meet her, squatting his legs slightly to break her impact against his chest as her hands met his shoulders. He spun, rotating her in the air slightly to disperse her momentum. Her face lingered just a breath away from his as the rush of air from her jump settled around them, swept up and away in the breeze. Tora held her for a moment, loved the feel of her in his hands, the soft weight of her body against his. He swallowed once as she bit her lip between her teeth, watching him, before he settled her back on her feet, the trees to his left—a dark barrier between the rolling field and the city in the distance, thick with shadows on the opposite side of the clearing. He felt her fingers skimming along his arms, down to his hands where they laced with his own. 

“Did I hurt you?” she peered up at him, eyes wide with worry. _Pfft_ , she actually thought she could hurt him? Thought she’d been jokin’.

“Big boy, ‘member, Bobby? Muscles,” he said, flexing his biceps and smirking as her lips parted, watching them move, bulge under the fabric of his hoodie. She huffed lightly, shaking her head like she didn’t believe him. “Bobby,” he leaned down until he was eye level with her again as she raised her gaze to look at him, “I weigh a shit ton more than ya, just pulled myself up a goddamn tree for ya, sweetheart. No way ya lil jump could ever hurt me.” She worried her lip between her teeth again, but he could see one side of her mouth pulling up into a small smile. “Besides, like holdin’ ya,” he finished softer, tugging gently on the end of one of her braids as the smile finally broke across her face.

“Hold me while we eat?” he watched as her jaw pulled to the side like she was biting the inside of her cheek. _Fuckin’ cute_.

He bent, circling his arms around her waist and pulling her up against his torso, moving one of his forearms to grip her ass as she laughed, wrapping her legs around him. “No way I’m sayin’ no to that, sweetheart,” he grinned against her mouth as she placed a kiss on his lips, her hands cupping his jaw as he rotated, walking them a couple steps to the blanket. He loosened his grip on her, letting her slide back down to the ground, one of her hands slipping down his bicep, his forearm, until her fingers caught between his. He watched as she bent down, toeing off her sneakers, her arm suspended between them, his fingers steadying her before she stepped onto the blanket, pulling him with her. Tora quickly removed his shoes, smiling again at the way they looked next to hers before stepping up behind her and lowering himself to the blanket against the trunk of the tree. Could feel the bark pressing into his back, odd ridges and grooves—felt nice when he shrugged his shoulders, one knot in the tree pressing over the muscle that lay above his old injury. Tora bit back a groan at the feel of it, felt real fuckin’ good, like when he rolled his back out after his workouts or that time the clan doctor’d told him to lie on a tennis ball after a particularly bad flare-up. He settled his weight into the rough surface, tucking his hips slightly to allow some space between the gun and the tree—the hoodie cushioned his spine, providing some, though not much, relief from the press of the grip against bone.

As she knelt down onto the blanket, he spread his legs, pulling his left knee up, the heel of his sock catching on the fibers of the blanket, the pebbles in the dry grass beneath. She smiled softly, knowingly, probably thinking of the last time she’d sat between his legs on the ground, in her kitchen, the ice cream, the strawberries, leaning up against one of his legs. Tora held his arms out to her, “come here, sweetheart,” he said again, shifting slightly so that she had room to sit, tucking her feet up to the side, halfway under her ass as she reached for the tote bag beside him.

“How’s your leg?” she asked softly as she opened the bag, nodding toward where his right thigh lay in front of her, extended out flat on the blanket.

He huffed a laugh through his nose, “told ya, m’fine, Bobby.” He smiled at her. It was sweet, he thought. Sweet of her to care—fuckin’ cute. But it really wasn’t anywhere near as bad as many of the wounds he’d sustained over the years. Hell, the fuckin’ injuries he’d had the first day he met her were way fuckin’ worse than the gash in his thigh. Besides, he deserved it—all those kids. Slaughtered. Hadn’t even been forty-eight hours for some of ‘em. Fuck. He swallowed, closing his eyes against the memory of the blood, their faces. Their fuckin’ eyes.

“What, no strawberry juice?” Tora blinked open, frowning in confusion before he barked a laugh, watching as she pulled the wine bottle from the bag. She looked up at him, smirking. “Where’d this come from? Thought you didn’t drink.”

He huffed a laugh through his nose as he brought his left elbow up to his knee, his hand rising to stroke the back of her head where her hair parted between the braids. “I don’t, sweetheart. S’from Quince,” he said, pausing as he thought about it. Didn’t think the little shit had ever paid him back. To be fair, though, he’d been pretty distracted that night—Tora smiled to himself. “Night we met, or—” he laughed through his nose, “shit, second time we met.” He smiled, reaching his right hand to lift the bottle from her loose hold, turning it over by the neck. The blue label—had grabbed it from the shelf without looking, scooting the basket along the floor as he’d tried to catch glimpses of her at the front. “Ya asked why I was there in the first place since I don’t drink—was on a run to the liquor store for him. Kept textin’ me what shit to get,” he said, handing it back to her as she watched him, “I dunno—all look the fuckin’ same.” Tora nodded toward the bottle as she rolled it over with her fingers. He let his palm fall back to the blanket, stretching his legs slightly as he rolled his hips.

“Yeah, that’s why it’s better to just get the biggest one,” she smirked at him.

He bit his lip around a laugh, tried to stop himself, but the words fell from his mouth before he could, “ya’d know all about that, huh, sweetheart,” he watched as a blush crept up her face, spreading down beneath the neck of her sweater.

“Okay, Mr. Six-Three,” she muttered, smiling to herself as she set the bottle down on the blanket beside his thigh. “So, what made you choose that one?” she asked.

“Didn’t, Bobby,” he said, “cute hamster nearly crashed through the door,” he smirked at her as she met his eyes, “just grabbed the closest shit, didn’t even look.”

“You still have it, though.”

He let out a sigh, rememberin’ the third degree from his brother, “yeah, turns out they’re _not_ all the same, _pfft_. Quince didn’t want it and, I dunno, just…” he trailed off, thinking back to the moment he’d stormed out of the penthouse. Couldn’t explain what made him take the bottle. A feelin’.

“So, you want to drink it?” she smiled at him, tilting her head as she reached into the tote bag, pulling out a plastic container and the box with the cakes. “It’s fancy, not a screw top, and I don’t have anything to open it with.” She thought for a moment, “but Erdene showed me this trick once where you smack it with a shoe…”

Tora laughed, fuck—hadn’t even thought of how to open the stupid thing. _Ya fuckin’ idiot_. “A shoe? Nah, Bobby. Sounds like a shitload of broken glass. No way this day’s endin’ with more stitches,” he said. “Been enough tears, sweetheart.” He watched as she carefully opened the lid of the container, peering to look inside. _The fuck_ —

“Here,” she said, holding it out to him, “they’re rice balls.”

Tora smiled down at them, carefully picking the one up closest to him. She’d shaped the rice into the head of an animal. Looked almost like—

“It’s you,” she said, “I mean, I tried,” she laughed. There were little pieces of seaweed she’d cut carefully into strips, laying them out over the top of the head, around the ears. Had even made a little face on it. A fuckin’ tiger, _pfft_. Could she get any more fuckin’ adorable? And she’d made it for him, had cooked for him. Again. Her little hands shapin’ the rice into the animal she associated with him. Her tiger. He felt a burn at the back of his throat as he clenched his jaw. Didn’t fuckin’ deserve her. He looked up at her, meeting her eyes, her brow furrowing. If she knew what he’d done that week, the kids, would she’ve made this for him? Shared any of this with him? “I promise it tastes better than it looks,” she whispered, searching his face.

Tora put the tiger back down, taking the tray from her hands and setting it aside, leaning up away from the tree and into her, his palm at the back of her head easing her toward him. Felt her fingers rest on his right arm as he placed his other hand on her thigh, her lips meeting his a moment later. He closed his eyes to the smell of her, the feel of her under his hands, against his face so warm, so fuckin’ soft. How was she always so warm and soft? His Bobby. He kissed her slow, listening to the sound of her breathing, the crickets grown bolder as the night sky rolled over them, settling above the clearing. The trees, the brush of dry leaves in the gentle wind. He pulled away from her a moment later, holding her gaze a breath away from her face. “Bobby, I love it. Can’t wait to try it.”

Her lips pulled up as she beamed at him, her brow smoothing out over her eyes as she sat back up against his left knee, fingers trailing over his as she moved to pick up the other rice ball. Tora brought his arm down from around her, carefully picking the tiger back up, balancing it with the fingers of his left hand as he dug out his phone from his pocket, thumbing open the camera app. “What’s ya animal, Bobby,” he asked, nodding toward the rice ball in her hands.

“I don’t know,” she tilted her head, looking at it as Tora snapped a picture of his, attaching it to his chat with Quincey and Ronzo before tucking the phone back into his pocket. “Spent more time making yours, just kind of rolled mine into a ball with ears,” she laughed.

He frowned slightly, “shit, sweetheart. Why don’t ya take mine?” He reached out to her, but she shook her head, pulling her ball closer to her chest.

“No, that one’s special for you,” she explained. “Used to make these with my dad,” she smiled, looking down at the tiger in his fingers. “They’re meant to pull you up when you’re feeling down, but you have to eat the whole thing for it to work.” Tora tilted his head to the side, peering down at the little face she’d sculpted, the delicate stripes.

“Ya think I’m down, Bobby?”

She looked up at him and he watched as a leaf fell from the tree above, catching in her braid. Tora reached out and lifted it from her hair, skimming the dry skin of the leaf between his fingers before opening his hand, letting the breeze pull it away where it swirled out over the blanket, disappearing over the grass. She reached out toward him with one hand, her fingers trailing over his jaw, eyes running up and down the side of his face as though seeing something before her gaze fell to his neck, the crest beneath the patch. “Sometimes.”

He inclined his head as her fingers fell from his face, back to the rice ball in her hands. He swallowed, looking down at the tiger. “So, how do ya eat these, Bobby,” he murmured. “Wanna get it right.”

The dry grass beneath the blanket shifted as she scooted closer to him, her knees pressing against the inside of his right thigh, her feet tucked against his left foot, could feel her little toes curling against him. “You just go for the head,” she said, smiling.

“Shit, Bob, sadistic hamster,” he laughed, watching as she took a bite out of the ear of her rice ball. Tora brought it to his mouth, mirroring her movements. The rice practically melted in his mouth, the seaweed just faintly salty on his lips as his teeth sunk into the head. Fuck, it was phenomenal—didn’t take long for them to finish at all as he watched Bobby pick little grains of rice off her fingers with her lips as her other hand reached for the box with the cakes. He smiled at her, still felt like he was fuckin’ flyin’ but had no idea if it was just left over from the rest of the day or if the tiger had anything to do with it. Had felt like he’d been floatin’ since last night. “So, what’s so special about these cakes, Bobby? Still never told me.” He’d leaned his head back against the tree as she’d pulled the box into her lap, her fingers stilling on the lid for a moment before carefully untucking the flaps.

“We used to get these on the weekend, eat them at Granny’s all together,” she said softly, opening the box toward him, the rectangular cakes, the strawberries on top. Tora barked a laugh as his eyes fell to the corner of the box beside the cakes where she’d bought something else, too. A fuckin’ cookie in the shape of a T-rex. “Not the cookie,” she clarified, “that’s special for you.” She smiled up at him and he felt the warmth of the fuckin’ sun in his chest as she pulled out a spoon from the bag, dipping it along the corner of one of the cakes before holding it out to him. _Special for you._ “I know you’re not, like, the biggest fan of sweets, but it’s worth it, pinky.”

“I’m sure it is, Bobby,” he murmured, lifting his head up, leaning forward again, holding her gaze as he pulled the cake from the spoon with his lips. He smiled, hadn’t even needed to chew—melting against his tongue just like the rice had. Fuck, maybe it was just the food in Moonbright—was special or somethin’. Or maybe it was the fact that she’d chosen to share it with him. “S’good, sweetheart,” he smiled, licking his lips as he watched her put a piece in her own mouth, moaning softly. He felt his breath hitch in his throat at the sound—loved hearin’ her.

“Tastes like family, like home,” she said after swallowing, smiling to herself. “And now like you,” she added softly, not looking at him, her eyes staring at the open box in her hands, her breathing shallow as her tongue darted out from between her lips. He tilted his head—was she sayin’ what he thought she was sayin’? _Like family, like home…like you._ As he opened his mouth to ask her, she held the box toward him, “you should try the cookie.”

He watched her for a moment, the blush creeping up from beneath her sweater along her throat, coloring her cheeks softly in the dim light of dusk. Like her heart was reachin’ up. Up and out to him, blooming across her body. He bit his lip, carefully reaching into the box and withdrawing the cookie with two fingers. He swallowed thickly as he looked at the little arms painted on with icing, reachin’ out. Up and out, never leavin’ the body though. He flicked his eyes up to her before lifting his head when he realized she was watching him intently.

“Why didn’t you tell me? That you knew me?”

Tora leaned his head back—shit, not what he’d been expectin’. He shrugged lightly, “I mean, I didn’t know for sure. Couldn’t believe it, ya know. What the fuck are the odds,” he murmured, looking down at the cookie, the little arms. 

“Yeah,” she breathed. He looked back up at her and met her gaze again.

“Besides, would’ve raised questions like what the fuck I was doin’ in Moonbright to begin with. And if ya weren’t the strawberry girl, then—”

“The what?”

_Ah, shit_. He hung his head, laughing through his nose. “Uh,” he swallowed, laughing again, “strawberry girl.” Tora smiled as she tilted her head in question. “Ya gave me a strawberry juice,” he explained softly, “had never had it before. Didn’t know ya name.”

She smiled, “and you actually liked it. And here I thought you were just humoring me—the annoying kid who almost ran you over.”

“Nah, Bobby,” he murmured, reaching out and tucking a wisp of hair behind her ear. “Never lied to ya. S’good shit,” he said, repeating the words he’d spoken to her all those years ago at the foot of her driveway.

“Wait…” she trailed off, frowning in thought before looking back up at him. “Do you drink strawberry juice—eat strawberries—because of me?” Tora closed his mouth, swallowing. “You liked it that much?” Her smile spelled disbelief across her face, her lips open around the question.

He tightened his jaw, heart pounding as he realized where this was headed, what he knew he was about to admit to her—shit, hadn’t even spoken it to himself, afraid to fuckin’ think about it. “Dunno if it’s really ‘bout the juice, Bobby,” he muttered, looking back down at the dinosaur. “Could’ve been any flavor. Anythin’.” Shook his head, mouth so fuckin’ dry. “Was a gift,” he finished, his voice barely above a whisper against the breeze. If she weren’t sitting pressed against him, tucked between his legs, he knew she wouldn’t have heard him. But Bobby was practically on top of him, wedged so close to his core he knew all he had to do was lean forward slightly and he’d be close enough to kiss her.

A couple moments passed before he finally looked back up at her wide eyes, trained on his face, hadn’t moved, was waitin’ for him. Could tell from the way she was lookin’ at him—lookin’ _into_ him—that she understood. Knew without havin’ to ask—his first gift, one of his only. “Ya called me a good egg,” he murmured. “Didn’t know me from shit, this fuckin’ thug with a fucked-up face drivin’ a creepy fuckin’ unmarked van from outta town,” he shook his head, looking down. “Ya said sorry when ya almost ran into me—not out of fear, Bobby. Just cause ya hadn’t meant to hurt me.” He shook his head, running his fingers along the edge of the dinosaur. “Shit, ya _spoke_ to me. Ya know how many strangers have ever spoken to me in my life? Like, friendly and shit?” he drew a breath, huffing an exhale through his nose. “Been countin’, Bobby,” he murmured, listening for a moment to the crickets around them, the breeze through the dry leaves.

“Just a handful of people, but only two of ‘em who weren’t familiar with the clan—the mafia,” he said, placing the dinosaur back in the box and looking up at her. “Who didn’t know me by my other name, my reputation. Only two people, Bobby. Two people who treated me fuckin’ normal, made me feel fuckin’ normal. Let me forget—” She blinked at him, her lips parting. Slowly, she brought one hand up to cup his neck, her fingers over the patch, the crest as he steeled himself, taking a deep breath. “Two. The girl who gave me a juice box ten years back and the woman I met a couple weeks ago in a liquor store, too damn short to reach the top shelf. Fuckin’ smiled at me—at _me_.” He gestured toward his body. “Talked to me, fuckin’ laughed with me, Bobby. Let me buy her a box of wine.” He shook his head, smiling softly, reaching to tuck a wisp of hair behind her ear as he brought his other palm to hold the back of her hand on his neck, fingers settling between hers. Could see the beginnings of stars reflecting in her wide eyes, wet with unshed tears. “And ya know, she hadn’t asked for help either time even though I know she needed it. Felt like time just,” he took a breath, “stood still.” A tear slid from the corner of her eye, and he let out a gentle laugh through his nose as he reached up with his free hand to thumb it away.

“What,” she breathed, her eyes searching his, knew his were just as fuckin’ wet, could feel his lashes stickin’ together—no burn at the back of his throat, though. He felt open, fuckin’ flyin’. Maybe the cake had worked.

“How many more times ya think we’re gonna end up cryin’ on the ground,” he murmured around a smile as she laughed quiet on an exhale, dipping her head before looking back up at him, her palm wiping against the underside of her eye.

“Well, with our track record so far, maybe just a couple more million?”

His chest swelled at the thought, _a couple more million_ —knew she was exaggerating, but still. Would give anything for the chance at that. The cryin’, the not cryin’. The good with the bad, and there was so much fuckin’ good. “Come here, sweetheart.” Tora opened his arms to her, shifting his legs wider as she responded immediately, moving closer to him between his knees, her arms bunching up against his torso as he leaned back against the tree. He squeezed her tight to him, felt her fingers gripping his hoodie, moving like she was trying to burrow under the material, like she needed skin-to-skin as much as he did. Could hear her breathing him in. “I fuckin’ love ya, Bobby.”

She hummed against him, murmuring something into his chest. He smiled, arms running up and down her back as she tucked her head against his shoulder, the dip of his neck. Felt her press a kiss to his throat just beneath the patch. Tora closed his eyes, letting the scent of her fill him, the heat of her body so soft against his own, her lips pressing kisses along his neck, one of her hands slipping up along his chest, thumbs stroking him again like she had on the steps of her Granny’s house. Like she had so many times before, _all_ _living things need_ _love_. Tora slid his hand up her side along the back of her neck and up to cup her cheek, angling her head back to look at him. He tightened his jaw, gazing at her for a moment, _I tell them I care about them—like this_ , the memory of her words on the breeze, all around them, in the leaves that settled in the dry grass, the soft fibers of the blanket, the crickets of her hometown chirping along the field. The night sky opening up above them, a glimpse into a galaxy.

He leaned his head down, the press of his lips hot against hers as she opened to him, her fingers tightening on his hoodie, pulling him down, down into her. And he was falling—hard, knew he’d already fallen for her as she moved against him, pulling them up, his back against the tree as she knelt between his legs, her fingers on either side of his face as she kissed him, kissed him back, her tongue dancing along his as she moaned. Tora ran his hands up and down her back before letting them fall down around the swell of her ass, her thighs, pulling her closer until she was falling into him again, catching herself on his hoodie, her lips moving harder against his as he groaned. He ran his hands over her body again, fingers twisting along the hem of her sweater as she nodded against him, nodded again, again until he ran his hands up under the material, the skin along the curves of her lower back cool to his touch. Felt her shiver under his palms as he pulled his hands up higher until his forearms pressed against her back where she was warm, could feel her heat through his hoodie. Needed to get the fuckin’ hoodie off, needed to feel her skin-to-skin.

“Bobby,” he breathed as she kissed along his jaw, her hands coming up to the zipper along his sweatshirt, seemingly understanding what he wanted, needed, one hand tugging it open as the other slid along his t-shirt, bloomed over his heart where her thumb rubbed against him. Felt her hands moving to pull the hoodie off his arms, and he sat up from the tree, holding her against him before moving to shuck the fuckin’ fabric from his body. He tugged the back of his shirt up, gripping the gun and pulling it from his waistband where he set it on the grass beside the blanket. He immediately circled her again, the chill of the air sending goosebumps along his arms as he brought his lips back down to hers, the breeze blowing around the tree sending tingles up his back, or maybe that was from her fingers in his hair just before she moved them down his front. Her hands fell to the hem of her sweater and Tora, realizing what she was doing, what she wanted, quickly took over, pulling the material up over her head before quickly circling her again, his fingers running along the lacey fabric of her bra as he kissed her hard. His hands moved to cup her from the front, squeezing her curves, his thumbs brushing over her nipples—hard beneath the soft fabric. He kissed his way down her throat, smiling at the feel of her humming softly under his touch, his hands on her body. _I like how they feel when you touch me_. He panted against her as she moaned, pulling away from her throat slightly. “Bobby,” he breathed, “shit, sweetheart. How much ya wanna keep on.”

She shook her head, could feel her hand circling his wrists, pressing him more firmly against her tits, “off, all off,” she gasped. He laughed against her skin at the realization of what was happenin’, heard her laughin’ too. What was really about to happen. That they were really about to make love under the fuckin’ stars. Skin-to-fuckin’-skin. Felt like he’d fallen into one of his brother’s fuckin’ books. Tora groaned against her neck, looping his fingers around the bra closure until he felt the hooks release. A moment later, she’d brought her arms down to her chest, pulling off the bra and tossing it somewhere beside them, didn’t matter where. All that mattered was Bobby, Bobby in his arms as she ran her hands down his front, fingers catching in the hem of his shirt as she peeled it up off of him.

Once he’d tugged it over his head, he shifted, holding her against him, her tits so soft on his chest as she wrapped her arms around his neck. Slowly, he moved, lowering her back down onto the blanket. He reached to the side, picking up his hoodie, balling it up. “Lift ya head, Bobby,” he murmured, tucking it under her hair before leaning down over the length of her body, resting his weight onto his elbows, his lips meeting hers a moment later as she pulled him to her on a low moan, one of her hands moving down between them to palm his length through his jeans. “Shit, Bobby,” he gasped, kissing down her jaw, sucking the skin of her throat as she moaned again. Needed more, he needed to feel her, be inside her. Could feel her shivering under him, though, the breeze cool on their bare skin.

Tora glanced up, reaching over her head to grab the second blanket. “Pants, sweetheart,” he murmured, quickly undoing his and shucking the material down over his ass, catching his briefs. He knelt up, cock bobbing up between them as Poppy lifted her hips, struggling to pull her jeans down as she laughed. Tora smirked, “I gotcha, Bobby,” he husked, his fingers catching in her waistband, tugging her pants, her undies, down her legs. He reached down, gripping her right calf and pulling her ankle free, but before he could go for her left, her knees had fallen open, her feet hooking around his bare ass, her heels rubbing the waistband of his jeans. He laughed, letting her pull him down on top of her, his cock pressing against her hip as he buried his face in her neck, pressing sloppy kisses to her, smiling. Couldn’t wipe the grin from his face even if he’d wanted to as he felt her chest moving against his with her own laughter. Her own fuckin’ joy at being wrapped up with him under the fuckin’ stars. Shit. He reached back around, grabbing the blanket and pulling it up over their waists, nestling himself between her legs as she spread her knees wider, her hands running up and down the sides of his back where she could reach before running up to circle his neck. His lips met hers again, her fingers tangling in the hair at the nape of his neck as she kissed him back, her head rising up off the sweatshirt to meet him as he dipped a hand down her body, skimming his palm over her until he found her center. So fuckin’ hot, wet. Ready for this, for him. Under the fuckin’ stars, goddamn—he wondered for a moment how they’d gotten here, this woman he loved, pressed up against him.

“Bobby, ya got ya condoms?” he breathed—didn’t wanna leave her, didn’t know if he could pull himself away from her to grab the ones from the trunk of the car, even for a moment. So fuckin’ far away, just wanted to be wrapped up in her. She nodded against his lips, kissing him again.

“My bag.”

Tora glanced up, eyes finding her little black bag and handing it to her as she shoved her fingers inside, tugging out one of the gold packets and flinging the bag away, wrapping her arm around his neck to pull him back against her. Tora rubbed his fingers alongside her clit, smiling as she moaned, the sound carrying out over the clearing. He laughed softly against her skin, slicking his fingers down her folds as he breathed hot against her neck, slipping a finger inside her. His groan muffled against her skin as she tightened around him.

“Want to feel you,” she breathed, “need you. Tora, I need you.” Her hands stroked up and down his neck as he felt a burn at the back of his throat at her words. _Need you, Tora_. _Want to feel you_. Slowly, he pulled his fingers out from inside her, moving to unwrap the condom when she stopped him. His eyes flicked to hers, the stars reflecting back at him as she panted, her hair all mussed up behind her from his hoodie, chest heaving, nipples tight against the breeze.

“What is it, sweetheart,” he asked low, eyes searching hers, the galaxy within her as she licked her lips once.

“Want to feel you again,” she murmured, “even if it’s just for a little.” She swallowed, her throat rippling in the light of the night sky above them, so many fuckin’ stars. He was struck again by how special this place was, the moon so bright in her eyes. Tora slowly lowered himself back on top of her, holding her gaze as he leaned closer, pressing his lips firm against hers as she blinked slow, her breathing deepening, Tora’s fingers moving back to slip along her folds, reaching to rub some of her wetness along the head of his cock, pulsing so fuckin’ hard at the thought that he was about to feel her without a condom again—the memory of the night before, the one time he’d accidentally slipped inside her, almost too much to bear.

“Ya ready, Bobby? Ya sure?” he asked, the tip of his cock finding her entrance as he bit back a groan. She was already so hot, so wet, could already feel her squeezing from the way her entrance kissed his head. _Fuck_. He didn’t need to wait long—Bobby immediately nodding her head.“Yes, yes, yes,” she gasped as he brought his hand back up to her head, fingers tangling in her hair as he kissed her on the lips, wanted to remember this moment forever, he thought, slowly shifting his hips forward as he pressed into her. Tora could feel his eyes roll back up into his head, his lids closing, head hanging against her shoulder where it’d fallen away from her face at the contact. She moaned as he stretched her, her voice carrying up the length of the tree and out across the field as he pressed slowly into her, further and further until he was buried inside her core. He didn’t dare to breathe, his lungs holding his last inhale as he focused on the feel of her all around him, skin-to-skin, not even the thin condom between them. Their bodies wrapped up between the blankets, the crunch of the grass beneath them with each subtle move, the breeze tangling their hair along their faces. Bobby, his Bobby. He felt her draw her knees up around him, legs gripping his sides tight to her under the blanket, the angle of her changing, tightening at her movement, his cock pressed up inside her shortened center. Tora moaned, could feel every fold inside her, slick with need, her desire for him. She loved him. _Him_ , fuck.

Tora wasn’t sure how long he waited, pressed fully into her, the rise and fall of her chest against his, no gaps between their bodies as he breathed against her neck. Finally, he placed his lips along her throat, kissing her slowly as he moved his hips slightly, his jeans tight around his lower thighs, pulling out before rocking back into her. He could feel his body shudder at the sensation as she tightened around him. “Shit, Bobby,” he groaned, nearly collapsing on top of her as his elbows shook.

She turned her head, lips brushing his as she found his eyes, “what does it feel like?” she breathed.

Tora huffed a laugh, smiling against her lips, kissing her once before he pulled back, rocking his hips again and catching a groan in his throat. “Like fuckin’ heaven,” he murmured, “could stay here forever.”

He watched as her lips parted in a soft smile, and then she was wrapping her feet around his back, kissing him as she pulled him into her. Tora let himself go, losing himself completely in her, the soft curves of his Bobby beneath him, elbows on either side of her body as he tried to convey every bit of love he felt for her with the slow rock of his hips into hers, his kisses along her forehead, her cheeks. Shit, if he didn’t put the fuckin’ condom on, he was gonna come, no question. Tora pushed into her one more time before he pulled out, reaching for the foil packet that’d slipped from his fingers, tearing it open by the teeth and kneeling up between her legs to roll it onto himself. Her feet stay pressed against his lower back, as though she couldn’t bear to let him stray too far. As he flicked the wrapper back down onto the blanket, crawling back over her, he caught her eye, smiling before he pressed his lips to the center of her chest where her tits fell away from each other, settling heavy along the soft lines of her body. Tora breathed deep against her as she wrapped her arms around his neck, her palms at his back while he felt the soft pulse of her heart through her ribcage. _I love ya_ , he mouthed against her skin, pressing a kiss to her again before drawing back up to her face. He reached down, grabbing his base and lining himself up with her entrance, holding her gaze as he rocked back inside her on a low groan.

“Me, too,” she murmured then, kissing the side of his face, her chest pressing firm against his as she inhaled, “me, too.”

Tora slipped his arms under the dip of her back as she arched into him, pulling his palms up between her shoulders as he hugged her to his body, pushing his hips against hers as she moaned his name like a mantra. When he pressed his face against hers, his nose skimming along her cheek, he could feel her skin damp with tears, her eyes closed as she breathed his name again, the words _I love you_ tumbling from her tongue as she pulled him into another kiss.

Suddenly, the left side of her face lit up from a pair of headlights coming down around the bend in the road—throwing the right side of her into shadow. Tora stiffened for a second, his head pulling up to squint at the source of the light, his mind drawing to the black sedan he’d been so sure was tailing them as they’d left the city. She gripped his neck, ducking her head against him and he felt her laughing, her body squirming against his—could feel the vibrations in her center where he was still buried inside her. “Oh, jeez,” she gasped.

Tora felt his own tension melt away at the feel of her smiling against him—willing himself to remember where they were. Her special place under the stars. He let himself laugh with her as she clung to him, bringing his focus back to Bobby, her hands tight as she pulled him close, her head burrowing into him, the feel of her wet heat like a sheath as her legs gripped him. “Shit, sweetheart, maybe we should go say hi,” he murmured, nosing at her hairline so that she’d untuck her face from his shoulder.

“Tora,” she hissed, her nails digging in slightly.

“Ah, fuck—easy, Bobby. Shit,” he laughed, angling his arm like a wing back behind him as his fingers caught the edge of the blanket around their waists, tugging it up over their heads against the light as the car approached. He pulled up onto his elbows, the hard press of the grass crunching beneath the blanket as he looked at her, her face splotched with light from the stitching of the fabric where the headlights shone through, dotting her skin like the night sky. His breath caught in his throat as she smiled softly up at him, the lights moving across her cheeks as the car passed by, taking the beams with it down the road. He felt himself breathe again. Tora knew he should move, should take the blanket off of their heads, couldn’t bring himself to, though. Not yet. As he watched her, she pressed up against him, her nose skimming his as her mouth pillowed on his lips. He let his eyes slip closed, surrounded by her scent, the smell of the latex carrying up their bodies, the chorus of crickets and something pitched lower that croaked from behind the tree—were there fuckin’ frogs out here? She rolled her hips, her tongue sliding against his as he felt her worm a hand down between them, rubbing herself as he began rocking into her again, meeting the rhythm of her legs where her feet pulled him into her, out of her, back in.

“Tora,” she breathed, could feel her tightening around him, her knuckles circling against the hair of his groin. She squeezed him tight and he groaned, moving his head down to kiss her neck, sucking her skin between his teeth, his tongue running along her goosebumps as he felt her start to come.

“That’s right, sweetheart,” he murmured, kissing her again, the tension coiling low in his groin, hot as her walls began to clench around him, her breath coming in shallow pants as the nails of her left hand scraped the base of his scalp. Tora leaned his head up into her touch, the blanket soft on his forehead, letting his mouth fall open as he felt the tension release, filling the tip of the condom as he rocked into her a few more times, panting against her braid. Could feel the material of the blanket puffing away from his face with each of his exhales as Poppy arched up into him on a moan, her walls squeezing at him, at the condom as it slipped around him, for a moment before she stilled, her knees falling away from his sides as she breathed deeply. Felt her arms stroking up and down his back as she hummed. Tora buried his face in her hair, hugging her tight to him. He felt her fingers moving along him, pulling at the blanket until she’d uncovered their heads, a rush of cool air blowing over them as he pulled up to look at her, brushing his thumb along her hairline. She shivered against him. “Ya cold, Bobby?” he murmured.

She shook her head, “not unless you move.” A second later, she smiled. “Guess you’re going to have to stay here forever.”

He knew she was jokin’, but he couldn’t help the words that tumbled from his tongue, “wouldn’t mind that, sweetheart.” Her lips parted as her eyes flicked around his face. Could feel his cock softening inside her, their bodies still joined under the blanket, the stars reflecting in her eyes. “I love ya,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to her forehead as she hummed softly. He pulled back a moment later, brushing his thumb against her cheek, “s’a long drive, sweetheart,” he murmured, “should probably start headin’ back to the city.”

“Hmm,” she stroked her fingers up his spine, as a low groan rumbled in his chest. Fuck, he loved her touchin’ him. “Why don’t we stay here,” she said.

Tora raised his head to look at her, “what, like on the ground?”

She rolled her eyes, “no, like back at the house,” she said. He raised his eyebrows at her—she wanted him to spend the night at her Granny’s? She smiled at him, “yeah, come on, let’s go back.” He felt her fingers patting his sides as he nodded, pushing himself up off of her, letting the blanket fall off his shoulders as his cock slipped out from her body. He swallowed, missed her already. Fuck, what a goddamn sap.

“Here, sweetheart,” he passed her the sweater along with the rest of her clothes as he stood up to get dressed, his skin erupting with goosebumps at the breeze, could feel his cock shrinking up toward his body without her heat. She reached over into the tote bag, pulling out a couple napkins and passing them to him as she nodded toward the condom still sheathing his length, a small smile on her lips. He smirked at her, carefully rolling it off of him and wadding it up in the napkin before tucking himself back into his briefs and pulling up his jeans. “Where’d ya put my shirt, Bobby,” he asked, turning to look around the blanket as she finished pulling up her pants, reaching for her bra. His eyes caught on the gun just as she passed the shirt to him, her head turning to follow his gaze. He turned to look at her, her jaw set as she took in the weapon just beside the blanket, couldn’t tell what she was thinkin’. Tora swallowed, his mouth running dry as she slowly turned to look at him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for sticking with this long-ass story and for all your wonderful comments, think I'm gonna get some cake this weekend and celebrate this little milestone ayyyy
> 
> Ch. 39: Ope! (lmao my midwest is showing) Maybe it’s too late to drive back to the city? What a shame that’d be…
> 
> ✨Come say hi on IG @melarela1223 where I post WIPs, inspo, and other random shit about my MPL obsession, including but not limited to lots of high-key targeted IG ads that inform my writing now apparently lol ✨


	39. No teeth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Poppy convinces Tora they should extend their stay in Moonbright. After all, it’s a long drive back to the city…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to those who voted in the IG poll! As I was editing, this ended up being a bit longer than the 5-6,000 word estimate I gave you but meh, I’m fine with it lol 
> 
> As always, characters belong to the real MVP Lilydusk, brilliant creator of Midnight Poppy Land. Support her on Patreon! https://www.patreon.com/lilydusk

**Chapter 39**

“Where’d ya put my shirt, Bobby,” he asked, turning to look around the blanket as she finished pulling up her pants, reaching for her bra. His eyes caught on the gun just as she passed the shirt to him, her head turning to follow his gaze. He turned to look at her, her jaw set as she took in the weapon just beside the blanket, couldn’t tell what she was thinkin’. Tora swallowed, his mouth running dry as she slowly turned to look at him.

Before he could reach to pick it up, she’d ducked down, half-naked, her bra and sweater in hand, squatting in front of the weapon. She hesitated a moment before reaching out with her sweater and grabbing it gently, fuckin’ swaddling it as she passed it to him, carefully aiming the barrel at the ground. Tora felt his face fall slack as he reached out to grab it from her, felt like he was movin’ underwater. _The fuck?_

She met his gaze as she pulled the sweater back toward her. “You okay?”

He glanced down at the gun in his hands before meeting her eyes again. She’d just picked it up like it was nothin’. He could feel the breeze on his tongue through his parted lips as he stared at her. Nodding his head wordlessly, he tucked it back into his pants as he watched her ball the sweater between her knees, looping the bra around her ribs and fastening it around her front before twisting the thing around, roughly stuffing her tits in the cups and sliding the straps up her arms before reaching down to pull the sweater from between her legs, pulling it down over her head. She bent to grab his hoodie, handing it to him before turning back around to gather the rest of the shit on the blanket.

Tora shrugged on the sweatshirt, blinking a couple times as he helped her pick up the blankets, mirroring her movements as she shook hers out, the wind catching bits of dried grass and leaves that’d caught on the material, twirling them out over the clearing. Thought he saw some sand sprinkle out, too, but that didn’t make any sense—there was no sand here. He watched as she balled it up, holding the blanket in front of her as she glanced around the ground. She looked up at him then, smiled. Held her hand out. _What the—_ did she really not realize? Or maybe she did? She’d practically ignored the gun in the sink last night, but he’d figured that was cause she’d been focused on his fuckin’ leg. Then again, she’d seen him empty his closet where normal people kept clothes and shit—his own full of weaponry, all his motherfuckin’ shady shit. Fuck, either way…Tora closed the distance between them in two strides, his arms circling her, the blanket at her back as he lifted her to his chest, kissing her. Felt her smiling against his lips. Why in the fuck did she keep choosin’ him?

“You know, if you’re trying to butter me up so that you can drive, it’s not going to work,” she murmured, laughing softly as he kissed her again, couldn’t stop himself from grinnin’ like a fuckin’ idiot. Shit, really felt like he was flyin’. Like he might float right up into the sky, the stars.

“Ya sure, Bobby? Bet I’d get us back faster,” he smirked at her as he walked them to the car, her legs coming up to wrap around his waist, feet tapping against his ass with each step as she leaned into his ear.

“One piece, tiger. Remember?” She pulled back up to look at him, smirking, “what’d you say earlier? Something about no more stitches?” she tilted her head as though trying to remember.

“ _Pfft_ , sweetheart, ya just took me on a hike through the woods and back, all before climbin’ up and down a goddamn tree. Leg’s fine.” As they reached the trunk of the car, he let her slip back down to the ground as she reached into her bag to dig out the key to the Lexus. She clicked the release button before holding it out in the air between them.

“I have a condition,” she said, biting her lip around a smile as she peered up at him through her lashes, one eyebrow raised. Fuck, she knew exactly what she was doin’. He took a breath before letting out a slow sigh.

“A condition, huh,” he said, narrowing his eyes at her as he bit back his smirk, “this like ya favor?” He let his eyes run up and down her body as he remembered the look of her naked in his tub, arms crossed, hip cocked, not takin’ any of his shit as she’d waited for the towel in his hand. “Cause ya know, I’m still waitin’ on _my_ condition, Bobby,” he murmured, his free hand raising to her hip, pulling her a step closer to him so that her torso pressed against his. “Haven’t forgot.”

He watched her swallow as she leaned her head back to see him clearly. He’d expected to see heat in her eyes, had expected that she’d be thinkin’ of the morning, too, the way he’d kissed her slow as he told her how many times he wanted to make her come again, but she clearly fuckin’ wasn’t—was grinnin’ wider than he thought he’d ever seen. He felt his eyebrows slowly rise as he waited for whatever shit she was gonna say. “Let me braid your hair.”

Tora nearly took a step backward in surprise. _Where in the fuck had that come from?_ “Braid my—huh?”

“Mhmm,” she nodded, still smiling up at him, the key dangling from her finger. Tora turned to stuff the blanket and tote in the open trunk beside his go-bag, reaching to take the other blanket from her arms, but she held it away from him, shaking her head. “It’s a little cold, and if I’m not driving then I get a blanket,” she smiled before nodding at the tote, “and sweets.” She widened her eyes at him until he clicked his teeth, shaking his head softly as he pulled the bag back out of the car. “So, what do you say? We have a deal?”

He huffed softly, rolling his eyes as she smirked. “Ya know, funny enough it sounds like ya already made up ya mind. Got ya fuckin’ blanket and everythin’.” He closed the trunk of the car, holding his hand out below the key. Was pretty fuckin’ sure this had been her plan all along. “So, what. Ya gonna give me the Bobby look?” he nodded toward her two mussed up braids that framed either side of her face before reaching out a hand and skimming it along a strand that had come loose. Shit, he wouldn’t mind gettin’ his own hair all tangled up, too, if it meant that she’d let him make good on his promise to her.

“I was thinking something a little different,” she said, glancing up at his bun before letting her eyes fall down to the hair loose around his shoulders. She dropped the key in his hand and reached up to his neck, brushing the strands away from the patch before trailing her fingers over it. “We should change this before bed,” she murmured.

“I gotta sleep with it on?” he asked, closing the trunk and clicking the unlock button on the keys. He wrapped an arm around her shoulders as they walked around to the passenger side of the car before ducking down along the seat, pulling it up closer to the dash from where he’d had it extended all the way back—she didn’t need nearly as much leg room as he did, and he liked being able to reach over and hold her hand, her thigh. Liked being able to glance over and see her face, watch her smile. Wouldn’t be able to do that if she were practically sitting in the backseat. Tora stood back up, holding the door wide for her, the fingers of her free hand trailing across his chest as she climbed in, settling herself against the seat with a little wiggle. _Pfft, fuckin’ cute_.

“Mhmm,” she nodded, pulling the blanket in from where one of the ends had fallen from the car, trailing along the dried grass, catching wicker blades in the fabric. 

Tora stooped down, placing the tote at her feet beside the bag that held the nicotine patches, helping her tuck the blanket in along her thigh as she leaned forward and pressed a kiss to his cheek before reaching up to peel back the corner of the patch. He winced as it caught on the little hairs along his neck. “Yeah, it’s important to switch the place where you stick it so that your skin doesn’t get irritated.” She frowned, leaning closer to inspect his neck. “Hard to tell, though…” she murmured, almost to herself, her breath warm on his jaw, “we might want to avoid putting it on your tattoos again,” she considered, sighing softly.

He laughed once, “ _We?_ Bobby, ya the one who put it on, ‘member?”

She shook her head, seemingly ignoring him as she said, “it’ll help when we have some more light,” her fingers slipping down to his chin, angling his head to the right so the soft glow of the car light above them would catch his throat. “And we got you the sixteen-hour ones, so for it to work through the night you should put a fresh one on.” She leaned back into the seat, releasing his face and smiling at him.

“ _I_ gotta put on a fresh one?” he murmured, “dunno, Bobby.” She frowned slightly, tilting her head as she waited for him to continue, looked a little confused. “This one’s growin’ on me,” he said, tapping the square on this throat, “a cute little hamster put it on for me, dunno if I can bring myself to take it off.” Her mouth fell open slightly as she laughed once, “maybe if ya help, though…” he trailed off, leaning forward, his lips brushing her jaw.

She leaned back so she could meet his eyes again, her expression serious, “of course I’ll help you.” He blinked, his smirk settling into a small smile. Had a feelin’ she wasn’t just talkin’ about the fuckin’ patch, felt his chest swell at the thought—warm, so fuckin’ warm despite the breeze at his back. Tora nodded at her as he stood back up, carefully closing the door and walking around the hood to his side. When he opened the driver’s door, he bent down, glancing up at her with a smirk as he slid the seat back all the way, “shit, Bob. Ya got short legs,” he laughed, climbing in and buckling as he pushed the key into the ignition, the Lexus purring to life a moment later.

“ _Tch_ ,” she huffed, reaching one hand over to push on his knee before pulling the blanket up around her waist. “My legs are average-sized,” she said. “Can’t help that you’re giant,” she turned to look at him, her mouth falling open, a blush spreading up her cheeks as he smirked at her.

“So, I’m giant, huh?” he asked, peeling back out onto the road and pulling a sharp U-turn.

He heard her sigh, could see her shaking her head from the corner of his eye. “You know what I mean.” Didn’t even have to look at her to hear the smile in her voice. He rested his hand on the center console as he flicked on the high beams, the trees along the sides of the road flashing past them, flickering black and white like fence posts. “And yes,” she added, her voice so quiet he barely heard her over the whir of the heat blowing from the vents as she reached out and grabbed his fingers, pulling his right hand under the blanket across her lap and sandwiching him between her two palms.

“Shit, Bobby, must be goin’ deaf,” he balanced the wheel on his left knee as he brought his other hand up to rub at his ear, glancing over at her and laughing at the wide-eyed look on her face as she watched his hand leave the wheel, “what was that, sweetheart? Ya say I’m what, now?”

“One piece, Tora,” she hissed, nodding at the wheel and tugging at the hand in her lap as he brought his palm back down to press open along the top of the steering wheel, laughing soft against the darkness of the car. He shook his head on a smile, squeezing her hand under the blanket, warm in the heat of her lap as he stared out the windshield ahead.

His eyes flicked up to the deep indigo expanse dotted with stars, the night sky opening up above them like another road through the trees as the branches on either side of them thickened, the tree line growing dense as they drew closer and closer to her Granny’s house, the gas station. Though it looked different at night, Tora found it all felt familiar, wondered if it’s how she’d felt driving through the warehouse district where his apartment was—probably not, though, he thought. Was probably just the warmth of her hometown, welcoming, inviting in a way the city had never been—nearly the opposite of the shitty metro area where he lived. “It’s going to be a right up ahead in a little bit,” she murmured after a while, and he smiled. He nodded, knew the way, but he liked the feel of her guiding him.

“The fuck—” A dark silhouette soared across the road in front of them up ahead, swooping into the treetops on the right. Tora frowned, leaning forward as they drew closer to the spot where it’d disappeared.

“Oh, you should pull over,” she tightened her hands on his, tugging him toward the right as though her movements directly controlled the angle of the car. _Pfft, fuckin’ cute,_ he smiled to himself. He braked, pulling the car to the side of the road and turning to look at her as she untucked her right hand from the blanket, rolling down her window. A rush of cool night air blew into the car, sending goosebumps up his neck where the breeze met the warm air from the car’s heating vents.

“What’re we doin’, Bobby,” he murmured low, reaching with his left hand to put the car in park before leaning over to her, pulling his right knee up onto the seat, the denim of his jeans pulling slightly at the sutures along his thigh. He shifted, trying to ease the pressure, watching as she brought a finger to her lips before pointing out her window.

Tora listened, his eyes following the moths that fluttered around the hood of the car, their bright bodies illuminated white like ghosts flicking against the headlights, casting shadows along the beams that hit the grass ahead, the trees. His eyes flicked to the trunks along the sides of the road, licking his lips as he listened to the rustle of the leaves in the wind, unable to stop his body from tensing as he listened for the crunch of leaves underfoot from the woods. “Bobby,” he murmured, not wanting to break away from this moment, but suddenly uneasy at being so visible. At least in the clearing by her special tree, they’d been cloaked in darkness—that car probably hadn’t even seen them as it’d passed by on the road. Here, though, pulled off on the shoulder of the dark road, the beams from the car like a beacon from any direction…He flicked off the headlights, plunging them into near darkness, the red glow of the interior display casting the soft, fuzzy hair along the side of her face in warm light. “Sweetheart, we should—”

She inhaled suddenly at the sound from the trees, a low whooping that echoed along the road. Fuckin’ eerie as shit. “There, you hear?” She half-turned her head to him, angling her chin up as she smiled, her teeth and the whites of her eyes glinting red in the light of the console. “An owl,” she whispered. “They hunt at night.”

He frowned, leaning closer to her and murmuring, “birds hunt?” as he peered out her window. “Thought ya said they eat worms.” Could see the moths fluttering around the car, dispersing in the sudden absence of the light, black shadows, some of them thumping softly against the car. One of them landed on the edge of the open window, and he watched as Poppy reached out, stroking its wing before she nudged it gently toward the edge, encouraging it to take flight again.

“Some of them,” she whispered as the owl called out again, the sound of it echoing from the darkness of the trees, farther away now. “There are owls that eat small creatures like insects and mice. Some of them eat bigger animals, too. Fish, rabbits.” Tora watched as she tilted her head side to side as she listed the different living things the birds killed. “They all share one thing in common, though—the hunt.” She listened for a moment, her eyes focusing on something in the space beside his head. “They eat their prey whole,” she murmured finally, “no teeth,” she met his eyes, swallowing. Tora ran his tongue along his molars, _no teeth._

He tried to imagine a bird eating—thought of the crows he’d seen tearing apart roadkill in the city. Somehow, it didn’t seem the same as the bird calling through her open window, hunting in the night. “They don’t choke?”

She shook her head. “Amazing, right? All the bones and stuff that they can’t digest gets compacted,” she squeezed his hand, pressing her palm against his like she was imagining the little skeletons being crushed between them. “This little pellet of waste that they have to spit up before they can eat again, hunt again. I can’t even imagine…” she trailed off, looking down at the lump under the blanket where their hands were joined. He listened to her breathe in and out, her chest rising and falling soft beneath her sweater, could feel her hand tighten around his, her fingers digging into the soft tissue between his knuckles. “They don’t play with their food,” she murmured, “all business. Mechanical, you know. What they need to do to survive. Just swoop down from the sky. Talons out at the last second, almost like they hold off as long as they can,” she shook her head, eyes wide as she zoned out again, “if you were the mouse, you’d never know what hit you.”

He frowned, looking past her and out the open window as a moth fluttered inside, its wings shimmering in the red haze of the console display. Tora reached behind him, rolling down his window and watching as it fluttered past his face, landing for a moment on the roof of the car just above his head before it flew back outside. He swallowed, eyes lingering on the spot where its body had been, bringing his fingers up to touch the fabric before stopping himself a whisper away, his mind flashing back to the dent in his own car, the bloodstains he’d left streaked across the interior. Thirty hours ago—less than? _All business. To survive._ He took a breath, closing his eyes against the floor of the warehouse, sticky with blood. The knife lodged in the boy’s throat. _You’d never know what hit you._ He licked his teeth again against the dryness in his mouth.

“How come—” his voice cracked and Tora swallowed again, clearing his throat before trying again. “How come ya know so much ‘bout birds, Bobby?” he turned his gaze back to her face, close enough to kiss her. Watched as the corner of her lip pulled up further, turning fully to face him, her nose brushing against the tip of his as her eyes flicked around his face. She brought her right hand up to smooth over the place between his eyebrows where he hadn’t realized he’d been frowning. Tried to let the tension go, leak away from him as he closed his eyes to her soft touch.

She shrugged softly, “I don’t know. I guess if you grow up listening to nature, you learn the different sounds and who they belong to. Like,” she squeezed his hand under the blanket, “I bet you know the sounds of the city better than I do.”

“ _Pfft, pfft_ ,” he laughed, letting himself come back into this moment, Bobby’s thumb stroking his forehead, his nose bumping hers. “What, ya think I can tell the buses apart and shit? By the sound?”

She laughed through her nose, her hand dropping to the blanket and letting her head fall back against the seat before rolling to lean against her braid, looking at him again as he opened his eyes. “I’m sure there are things you know that I don’t.” Tora swallowed, aware of every stitch holding the gash in his leg together. She reached up with her right hand, tucking a strand of his hair behind his ear, “like the stairs with all the plants or Regina’s Peak.” She thought for a moment, her eyes roaming down to his lips before centering on his stare again. “The special places.” Tora held her gaze for another moment before he nodded. Thought he understood what she meant.

He turned back to the wheel, flicking on the lights before pulling back out onto the road as she rolled up her window, bending down to reach into the bag at her feet. She opened the bakery box again, the sweet scent of the cake filling the car. A moment later, he felt something press against his mouth, “open up,” she chirped, “you didn’t try your cookie.”

He smirked, lips tight against the press of the pastry as he mumbled, “pretty sure I did, sweetheart.”

She laughed, “oh, very clever. Such a comedian.” She pressed the cookie to his lips again. “You’ll have to tell me which one is sweeter.” _Pfft,_ he already knew the answer to that, he thought as he glanced over at her. She was biting her lip around a smile, her eyes bright, fingers of her left hand tight around his under the blanket. He smirked as he opened his mouth, taking the bite she’d broken off for him with his teeth—incredibly sweet. He huffed a laugh, shaking his head as he swallowed it whole, the cookie practically dissolving on his tongue into a sweet lump of sugar. “Damn, Bobby,” he said a moment later, “think I need some water now,” he laughed.

“Hmm,” she bent over for a moment before holding up the bottle of wine from the tote bag, “vino?”

Tora’s shoulders shook with the force of his laugh as his fingers clenched around the steering wheel. Fuck, she was too goddamn funny. “ _Pfft_ , ‘kay, Miss One-Piece,” he shook his head as she tucked the wine back in the bag, her back shaking as she laughed.

When she sat back against the seat, she turned to look at him, “so, which one?”

Tora smiled, braking as the gas station appeared on the right, opening his hand against the top of the steering wheel and pressing the heel of his palm into the hard leather as he turned down her Granny’s street, flipping off his high beams to avoid blinding the driver of the car at the end of the block as it took a left off of the street. He pulled up along the house opposite her Granny’s, the floodlight of the neighbor’s yard flicking on as he threw the car in park, looking out at the yellow house. Looked different at night, but that same familiar feeling. He moved to kill the car but paused as he felt her pull his hand to the left beneath the blanket, “park in the driveway,” she murmured, nodding her head toward the house. When he glanced over at her, his eyebrows rising slightly, she nodded again, smiling. He put the car back in drive, rolling forward slowly as he turned up the driveway, parking beside the flowers.

He found himself wondering again how the hell he’d gotten here as she leaned across the console, resting her chin on his shoulder and peering up at him as he flicked the lights off and pulled the key from the ignition. “Yeah, Bobby?” He looked down at her, biting the inside of his cheek against a smile at her wide eyes—how was she so fuckin’ cute?

“You didn’t answer my question,” she murmured.

He stared at her for a moment before cocking an eyebrow, “ya can’t be serious, Bobby.” He watched her smile widen as her brows drew together. No way could he resist that fuckin’ face. He sighed, “that cookie was sweeter than ya goddamn Twizzle-shit,” he said, thinking back to the chewy, bright red, fake-ass strawberry candy she’d offered him on the steps the day he’d first gotten to kiss her. He licked his lips, almost laughing to himself as he thought of what Quincey would say if he ever heard him say the words about to come out of his mouth, “still not as sweet as ya.”

She laughed before leaning up to press a kiss to his nose, “you’re real cheesy, tiger. You know that?” _Pfft, pfft_ , yeah. He laughed to himself. He fuckin’ knew. A goddamn sucker.

A moment later, she’d leaned back into her seat, releasing his hand beneath the blanket and opening the passenger door. Tora shook his head, staring at the yellow house for a moment through the windshield where he’d pulled up right along the edge of the front window. Still couldn’t believe the fuckin’ odds. Bobby, the strawberry girl. He checked the floor of the car on her side, reaching for the nicotine patches, but she’d already grabbed them, was walking behind the car. She rapped on the trunk once as he shook his head to himself again, pulling the trunk release before pushing his way out onto the pavement, gingerly shaking out his thigh—would need to check it, clean it again. “Nah, Bobby, I got it,” he said, moving behind her and grabbing up the blanket and his go-bag, waiting until she’d stood back up out from under the trunk to close it. Tora locked the doors as he followed her up to the front door of the house again, turning to look up and down the street momentarily as she turned the key in the lock, letting them into the house. He paused at the threshold, glancing up at her—still wasn’t really sure if this was okay. If she really wanted him to spend the night at her Granny’s. “Sweetheart,” he murmured as he watched her toe off her shoes just inside the doorway.

She turned to look at him, frowning when she saw that he was still standing outside on the front step. “Come on,” she said, dropping the blanket she was holding beside her shoes and holding out a hand to him.

“Ya sure ya Granny would be okay with this?” he asked as he let her lead him over the threshold into the quiet darkness of the house, the clock ticking in the corner, the fridge humming from the kitchen.

She closed the door behind him, and he heard her lock it. “With what?” she asked, a smile on her voice as she let the tote bag slip from her shoulder, pulling out the containers of food before she set the bag down on the floor, the weight of the wine bottle muted between the fabric and the wood.

When she looked back up at him, he gave her a look, lifting an eyebrow as he cocked his jaw to the side. She grinned, taking his hand again and nodding at his shoes. Tora huffed, rolling his eyes as he toed them off, one hand coming up to touch the lock on the door, his eyes sweeping over it to double check as he dropped the blanket on top of hers, before letting her pull him further into the house. “Bobby.”

“Hmm?” she hummed as she led him to the kitchen, Tora’s eyes immediately flicking to the counter where he found Bull, stepping over to him so that one arm extended across the kitchen to where Bobby stood at the sink, his other stretched out to the plant, running his fingers up one of the leaves.

“Ya sure he don’t need water?” he murmured, frowning slightly at the dinosaur as he heard Poppy place the empty rice container into the sink. She stepped across the kitchen, her hand coming up to stroke his chest as she looked up at him.

“Touch the soil.” When he glanced down at her in confusion, she nodded, smiling softly at him.

He let his hand slip down to the base of the leaves, touching at the loose dirt there. “Little damp,” he said, the soil cool to his touch.

She nodded again, “yeah, you said you’ve been watering him frequently, so he’ll probably be good for another couple weeks before he’ll need any more.” He looked back over at her, could feel his eyes widen.

“The fuck, ya serious?” And here he’d been worried about not gettin’ him water every couple of hours. Shit.

“Mhmm,” she smiled. “He retains water, doesn’t need a lot to survive, don’t want to drown him.” Tora frowned—there was difference between livin’ and survivin’. He knew that now. Hadn’t up until a few weeks ago, but shit, he didn’t want Bull just survivin’. Gettin’ by.

“So, he needs food? Or just water?” he asked.

Her eyes were warm as she gazed up at him, her palm stilling over his heart. “I have some plant food at my place. I’ll give you some tomorrow.”

_Plant food?_ He felt his eyebrows rise along his forehead as she smiled, turning to grab an empty glass from one of the cupboards. Her hand slipped away from him for a moment as she filled the glass at the sink. Tora blinked, listening to the water rise, his lips tugging up as he watched her. The rest of her sentence suddenly hit him, _tomorrow._ Like she didn’t want this to end either. She turned then, extending the water toward him as he tilted his head in a silent question, his hand closing around the cool glass, droplets beading under his palm as he took it from her. “Said you were thirsty,” she murmured.

He huffed a laugh through his nose, drinking some of the water before handing it back to her. As she refilled it, he moved to the sliding door of the kitchen, checking the lock as he said, “ya never answered my question, Bobby. Ya sure ya Granny’s gonna be okay with ya thug friend spendin’ the night?” He turned to look at her where she stood by the doorway, her hand outstretched to him again, the glass of water refilled in her other fist.

“Is that what you are?” she smirked as he made his way over to her, his fingers slipping between hers as he readjusted his bag on his shoulder. “My _thug friend_?” Tora reached out as they passed the counter, picking up Bull and cradling him in his elbow. Had missed the small weight of the plant against his ribs, his thumb stroking the smooth ceramic as they walked.

“What, ya sayin’ ya not my friend, Bobby?” he murmured, leaning over her shoulder as she led him to the stairs. He watched as she took a step up before she turned around, nearly eye level with him, though not quite. “And don’t think I haven’t noticed ya still haven’t answered.”

She met his gaze, holding it in the near-dark of the room. “Yeah,” she said after a moment. “She’d be happy you’re staying over. _Definitely_ wouldn’t let you drive back to the city this late, and especially wouldn’t let you drive _me_ back this late.” He felt his lips part at her words as she turned back around, allowing himself to be pulled up the stairs behind her. So, what—her Granny would be worried ‘bout _him_? ‘Bout _his_ safety? _Pfft_ , _yeah right_. Bobby clearly hadn’t been payin’ attention to the way most people reacted to him, he thought as they made it to the top of the stairs. He glanced around the landing, resisting the urge to duck at the low ceiling, the top of his bun catching slightly along the textured surface. They stood in a narrow hallway with just three doors—two facing each other on either side of them and one at the wall opposite the stairs. A string hung from the ceiling in front of them where Tora could see what looked like a panel above—likely some kind of crawl space, he figured. She pulled on his hand, opening the door to the left and swinging it wide.

Tora bent down, ducking around the door frame before standing back up to his full height cautiously. He smiled, looking around the room—clearly Bobby’s. She flicked a light switch with her elbow, throwing the small space into a soft glow like her apartment, little lights strung about the ceiling hung along the perimeter of the room, casting warm orbs of light against the pale-yellow paint, a couple shades lighter than the outside of the house. There was a small desk in the corner, the edge against the wall lined with small pots of spikey plants while the rest of the surface was piled high with books, stacked haphazardly, almost like they’d spilled from the bookshelf that leaned against the wall beside the desk, stuffed full of books, the spines—he noticed—facing out. No shame here.

He smiled, turning to look at her as his eyes caught on the posters that hung above her bed, his eyebrows shooting up as he took in the large images of young men standing in groups—they leaned on each other, posing for the camera, their chins angled up, lips parted. Some of them crouched, their elbows on their knees, fingers along their jaws, their baggy clothes draping off their bodies. Tora opened his mouth to ask her who they were or why they were on her wall as she tilted her head, frowning in confusion at his expression before following his gaze to the wall. She laughed softly, the hand with the water rising to her face as she shook her head.

“Keep in mind,” she said, turning to look back at him, “a lot of this is from growing up, so…” she bit her lip, her shoulders shaking in a silent laugh as the water sloshed dangerously close to the rim of the glass in her hand, “no judging.”

He shook his head, smiling at her as he moved to set Bull down on a chest of drawers to his left—one of the only other pieces of furniture in the room besides a small nightstand next to her bed. He let the bag drop to the floor from his shoulder before pulling her toward him and taking the water from her hand. “‘Kay, shorty. S’a pretty big demand,” he took a sip, putting it down beside Bull, “comin’ from Miss Judgy herself.” She shook her head at him, her hand coming up to pat his chest before slipping up the side of his neck. Could feel her fingers along the patch again.

“I’m going to _ignore_ that,” she said around a smile, her lips pursing together as she avoided his gaze, staring intently at his neck, squinting slightly. “We should change this, though,” she murmured, tapping his neck lightly. “Bathroom’s across the hall—” she grimaced, huffing slightly, “and I’m realizing I left the rest of the patches downstairs, I’ll meet you in there, okay?” She glanced up at him and waited until he’d nodded to step around him. He listened to her feet pattering down the stairs before dipping down to his bag. Tora quickly dug out his phone from his pocket, placing it beside the water before removing the gun from his waistband, placing it on the floor as he shucked off his old clothes, changing into a fresh t-shirt.

He glanced down at the gun at his feet as he cracked open his small bottle of mouth wash, taking a swig and swishing before he swallowed, eyes scrunching at the burn. Wasn’t sure where to put the fuckin’ weapon—his second one, he’d noted, was safely tucked away in the mesh pocket of the bag—he’d never slept without at least one of them too far from him, but shit—he glanced around the warm room, touches of Bobby everywhere, her scent mixing with the older smell of the house, could even hear the faint sound of the crickets through the glass of her window—couldn’t bring himself to keep the weapon out. He clicked his jaw as he bent back down, resting on his heels as he tucked the gun beside his other in the mesh pocket. He’d keep the bag close, he decided. They were in Moonbright—no one but Quince even knew he’d left the city. _Bad shit happens to good people everywhere_ , he shook his head at his own words looping to the front of his mind, _don’t make a difference where ya are_. Tora picked up the bag, moving it to the floor beside the bed, leaving the flap open as he tucked it into the space just under her bed. _Don’t make a difference_.

He stared at his bare foot for a moment, the place where the bag had just disappeared from view, before turning back to the chest of drawers, striding over to pick up his phone. There hadn’t been any messages when he’d texted Quincey and Ronzo, but he also hadn’t really been lookin’. Tora shook his head to himself, huffing through his nose as he thumbed in his passcode twice before the shattered screen recognized it. A message from Quince, sometime that afternoon:

@Quince: Sooo how’s Moonbright?

Tora’s thumbs hovered over the screen. Didn’t wanna put anythin’ in writing that the over-eager blonde man could hold over his head but knew he should say somethin’—anythin’—or else his brother would be callin’ him first thing in the morning all fuckin’ worried like he had earlier. And he just wanted to focus on Bobby—didn’t wanna deal with any shit from the city.

@Tora: can see the city from here, looks real small. got her special cake too

Took him a couple tries to get it right without typos, and he read over it again, thumb hovering over the send button. Just as he was about to press down on the screen, he reconsidered, quickly erasing the message and typing out a new one:

@Tora: lots of birds n shit

He hit send, placing the phone face-down on the dresser and running his hand over Bull as he heard her coming back up the steps. A moment later, she appeared in the door, “hey, you okay?”

Tora nodded, padding over to her, “don’t have pants besides jeans,” he murmured, his brows pulling together, hesitant to step out of Bobby’s room in his undies. Felt weird, her Granny’s house. Shit, disrespectful or somethin’. The fuck would Joe say if could see him now? Probably smack him over the fuckin’ head, he thought, smiling to himself. “If I sleep in ‘em, though…” he trailed off, looking down at the stitches that he’d yet to inspect in good lighting.

She shook her head, following his gaze to his thigh. “Mmm,” she hummed, “you’re definitely not sleeping in jeans.” She tilted her head, squinting in the dim glow of her bedroom, “don’t want you tearing out your stitches, but I need to see better,” she said, grasping his fingers in hers as she led him back into the hallway, flipping the light on in the bathroom as Tora squinted in the dark at the top of the stairs against the sudden brightness. “Besides, it wouldn’t be comfy for either of us,” she said, a smile on her voice as she released his hand, grabbing a small cloth off the top of a stack of towels folded on a shelf in the corner beside the frosted glass door of the tub.

He watched as she turned the tap in the sink on, her head nodding to him, motioning for him to join her in the room just as a flash of light from the first floor cut up the darkness of the stairs, illuminating the posts of the handrailing and slanting shadows up the wall to his right—the pulse of red and blue beating through the windows at the front of the house, the colors kaleidoscoping over his bare skin. Almost made the tattoos on his arms, his chest, look like they were moving, the koi swimming, the peonies shuddering in a nonexistent breeze. He turned all his senses to the window at the bottom of the stairs, listening to the faint sounds of the crickets from outside, the tick of the clock from the main room where they’d dropped the blankets just a handful of minutes ago. Two car doors slammed and Tora felt his entire body tense, his right hand moving to his waistband, finding only bare skin, the gun under the bed. “Bobby,” he murmured, his eyes trained on the window where he could see a couple figures shadowing against the curtain as they made their way up to the front door. A moment later, Tora heard a firm rap against the wood as he turned to look at her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I said no cliff but…I just couldn’t resist 
> 
> Idk why, but I feel the need to clarify this: Poppy wasn’t actually serious about giving Tora wine while he was driving. She def. doesn’t condone drinking and driving. 
> 
> ✨Come say hi on IG @melarela1223 where I post WIPs, inspo, and other random shit about my MPL obsession✨
> 
> Ch. 40: 😬😬


	40. A fuckin' slumber party

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some unexpected guests crash a party.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oooooooh boy PS I loved reading your guesses as to what tf is about to go down
> 
> As always, characters belong to the real MVP Lilydusk, brilliant creator of Midnight Poppy Land. Support her on Patreon! https://www.patreon.com/lilydusk

**Chapter 40**

Two car doors slammed, and Tora felt his entire body tense, his right hand moving to his waistband, finding only bare skin, the gun under the bed. “Bobby,” he murmured, his eyes trained on the window where he could see a couple figures shadowing against the curtain as they made their way up to the front door. A moment later, Tora heard a firm rap against the wood as he turned to look at her.

“Mmm?” Poppy turned around with the cloth in her hand, looking up at him and gasping softly as her eyes caught on the red and blue lights dancing across his skin. “What the…” she made to move past him out of the bathroom as Tora brought a hand up to her shoulder, shaking his head.

“Let me—” 

“Tora.” She set her jaw, shaking her head up at him, her eyebrows pulling together. He opened his mouth to respond—tell her there was no way in hell he was letting her answer the fuckin’ door—for all they knew it was a fuckin’ ruse. What the hell were cops doin’ at her Granny’s house damn near midnight anyway?—but Poppy held her hand up, pressing her fingers, the cloth, into his chest so that he’d back up. “It’s probably the neighborhood watch. Your car looks a little different than Granny’s,” she rolled her eyes, muttering, “stupid, nosy neighbors.”

Tora glanced back down the stairs at the sound of another knock, clenching his jaw, the muscles in his chest, his abdomen, even his arms tightening as he stood firm in the doorway of the bathroom, blocking her from slipping past him. So, what then? The neighbors had seen him? Had called the cops? But it might not be that at all—knew well enough from fuckin’ Ronzo that any idiot with a phone could buy all the shit they’d need to impersonate law enforcement. Worse, though, he realized as his heart thumped, could feel himself trying to slip into his spine, trying to bite back the panic—what if this was about the assignment from the last couple of days. Had someone seen him? Tracked him? He’d been distracted. Careless in the warehouse, all those kids. Their blood everywhere, tracked everywhere. And he’d brought it right back to Bobby. He swallowed thick.

“Tora,” she huffed, pushing more firmly against his chest when he still hadn’t moved. He turned, glancing back into the bedroom, the covers that hid his go-bag, the guns, just as another knock came at the door. _Shit, keep a level fuckin’ head. Fuckin’ focus. Bobby. Bobby’s here._

He heard muffled voices, then, “Moonbright PD. Mrs. Wilkes, are you home?” Another knock.

“Jeez, what time is it even?” she muttered as Tora put two hands on her shoulders, moving her back into the bathroom. Had half a mind to close her in, but shit—if this really _was_ just her Granny’s neighbors bein’ nosy, she might just kill him. Would sure as shit ruin the rest of the night, the weekend. Could say goodbye to seein’ her tomorrow. Instead, he turned to her, holding his breath for a moment as he considered whether to tell her where his guns were, just in case. Not that she’d know how to use them, and not that they’d even need them, but if he was about to get arrested, she should fuckin’ know about them. Know what to do with ‘em. She widened her eyes at him, the cloth falling from her fingers as she brought her hands up to grip his forearms, frowning slightly in confusion at whatever she saw on his face.

“Guns are in my bag under the bed,” he murmured. “Quince knows what to do with ‘em. Stay here.” He moved one palm to grip the back of her head, pressing his lips her forehead, hard, thinking back to the coin in the woods behind the house, _forever. Ya want this forever_. _Please, fuck._ He turned from her then, began moving down the stairs, balancing his weight carefully to avoid creaking on the old wood. He tried not to think about the idea of Bobby finally confronted with his street name. _No teeth_ , he thought, running his tongue along his incisors. “Tora,” she repeated, making to follow him.

He shook his head, holding a hand out behind him, fingers splayed wide. “Shit, just—” another knock on the door “—stay up there, Poppy,” he murmured as he reached the bottom of the stairs, running a finger along the inside of the curtain and shifting it slightly so he could see out the glass. Two cops in uniform, backlit by the neighbors’ floodlight across the street and another two figures standing at the foot of the driveway. He narrowed his eyes before whipping his head around at the sound of Poppy coming down the stairs. Wasn’t even tryin’ to be quiet, fuck. “Poppy, I told—”

When she’d reached the bottom, she huffed at him, shaking her head as she walked to the door, slipping past his outstretched hand and flicking on the floodlight outside.

“For fuck’s sake, Poppylan—” he growled, choking on the rest of his sentence as he watched her hand move to the knob.

She unlocked the door, looking back at Tora and widening her eyes at him, glancing down the length of his body and jabbing her hand in the air as she gestured at his groin, “you’re in your undies,” she hissed before shaking her head, could hear her muttering to herself, “ _guns in the bag_ , _tch_ ,” not even lookin’ through the fuckin’ peephole before she swung the door open. Turning to face outside, she smiled, tight-lipped, “evening, officers.”

“Oh. Hey, Pops,” A man’s voice, surprised. “Didn’t realize you were here. This your family’s place, right?” Tora shifted away from the window, moving closer to the door, out of sight. _Pops?_ Did she know these people? He felt himself relaxing slightly at the look of recognition that passed over her expression. He crossed his arms over his chest, letting himself lean just out of sight against the railing of the stairs, the wooden knob at the top of the post digging into the center of his back where just a couple hours ago, the knot of the tree had pressed into him. He breathed deep remembering her warmth in his arms, the press of her against his chest, clenching his jaw against the memory of the last time he’d been this close to cops, his thumb circling the metal of Joe’s ring on his finger. He knew how fast shit could go sideways. Knew firsthand even the most trusted people could be hidin’ shit, ready with a knife to the back—even if this guy was her friend. And these weren’t city cops, most definitely weren’t in the pocket of the clan. If shit went wrong, it could go _really_ fuckin’ wrong. Tora readjusted his feet, drawing one heel back closer to his body until he hit the bottom stair, ready to push off from it if necessary.

“Ah, Tom. Hey, yeah.” she said, her mouth settling into a firm line as she nodded once. “My grandmother’s house.” Tora glanced around the room behind her, his eyes falling across the shelves full of her dad’s journals—wouldn’t do him any good, even his fists would be better than a fuckin’ book.

“Right, right. She doing well?”

Poppy nodded again, her answer clipped, “yeah. Thanks for asking.”

“Course,” the man laughed once, “so, uh. Long time, no see, huh? How’ve you been? You moved to the city, right?”

Tora watched as she crossed her arms, “Uh, yeah. I’m fine. A little confused, though.” She tilted her head, peering at something beyond the officers, “I didn’t call the emergency line, so…” she trailed off.

“Oh, um,” Tora listened as the officer—Tom—let out a sigh, “got a call from the watch, just standard procedure,” he said, huffing a laugh. “You know.”

“Standard, how so?” Poppy said, shifting her weight to one foot, her hip cocked. Tora bit back a smirk—shit, she was pissed.

Silence, the sounds of the crickets louder now with the door open, the breeze catching the loose strands of hair that had escaped from her braids. Tora could smell her sweet scent from where he leaned, watching her, every shift in her body language—a fuckin’ vision. A primal part of him wanted to slam the door shut, take her right there against the wall. Or, shit, better yet, wanted her to ride him. Right on the goddamn floor. _Shit, fuckin’ focus, ya horndog_. _Not the fuckin’ time_. He heard the man clear his throat. Could this fucker not take a goddamn hint? She was practically screamin’ for him to fuckin’ leave. Tom drew a deep breath. “Pops,” he sighed again as her jaw twitched.

“And with the lights and everything, huh,” she said, turning to look back up at the officer. “Thought those were for fires and crime scenes, pulling people over. You know.” She paused, her jaw clicking. “What’s the emergency, Tom?” Fuckin’ feisty. Good thing she seemed to know the guy pretty well, though, otherwise he might have to talk to her ‘bout bein’ so ballsy with a cop. Tora thought for a moment. Yeah, he should definitely still talk to her about that.

“Neighbors saw a guy in a hoodie poking around—sketchy type, you know?” Tora swallowed, the slight smile falling from his face. Shit, they weren’t fuckin’ wrong, were they? “They were just worried, that’s all.”

“Mmm, I’m sure,” she said, shaking her head once as she peered out the side of the door again, seemingly past the officers. “Like they were worried every time my dad’s friend would visit, right?”

The man was silent for a moment before he spoke, “well, I wouldn’t know anything about that, Pops. Before my time, seeing as I was in high school, same as you.”

She took a deep breath, turning to look at the man again, “no, you’re right. Sorry, just—” she huffed, shaking her head. “We’ve got a history with them, you know?”

Tora heard two sets of laughter, quiet in the night as a moth flew into the house. His eyes followed it as it fluttered around the top of the door making soft noises where its wings tapped the ceiling. “Yeah, yeah. Reynolds here’s got a similar situation.” Poppy nodded her head, turning a bit further to the right, looking at the other officer, her jaw tight. Clearly not in the goddamn mood for shootin’ the shit. “So, everything okay here, then? You seen anyone matching that description?”

Poppy tilted her head to the other side, “and what description was that?”

Tom took in a deep breath, “uh, big guy, hoodie. Sketchy.”

Tora watched as her fingertips turned white where they clamped around her arm. “Sketchy? No.”

A voice crackled suddenly from the open door, grainy, “control to sixteen.”

“I got it,” Tora heard a different voice murmur—the other officer, Reynolds?—slightly lower in pitch than Tom before the static of the radio cut out suddenly, the man’s voice clear over the crickets, the breeze, the tick of her Granny’s clock, “sixteen. Go ahead, control.” He heard Reynolds step back from the door, watched the silhouette fade as the man walked further down the driveway toward the patrol car, the red and blue lights still flashing, his voice growing more and more muffled with distance.

“Okay, well…” Tom trailed off for a moment as Poppy looked down, taking a deep breath as she shifted her weight again to her other hip. When he spoke again, his voice was lower, “you know, you look really good, Pops. City treating you well, then?”

Tora inhaled sharply, his jaw tensing as he watched her swallow, nodding as she looked back up at Tom. “Yeah, really good.”

“Heard you and Julri called it quits.” Tora felt his eyes flash, running his tongue along his teeth at the name. So, this asshole knew that motherfucker? He considered making himself known to the officers—and there were two other people he’d seen at the end of the driveway, the neighbors? It was a risk, the tattoos on his arms, his neck, even his leg on full display, practically fuckin’ naked—no chance they wouldn’t remember him. Could complicate shit unnecessarily, and he had two weapons in the house, more in the fuckin’ car— _shit, the car_. Wasn’t even registered to him. No guarantee the Balthuman name would hold the same weight in Moonbright.

Tora watched the other officer’s silhouette approach the door again slowly, the radio crackling in the stillness of the night, the crickets chirping form the yard, the flowers. Could hear the moth somewhere above his head, fluttering against the ceiling, desperate to find the door again. “Sixteen. Say again, control,” the other officer said, stopping beside the passenger door of the Lexus and bending to peer into the car.

Tora heard a staticky voice respond, “black four-door. Caller noted partial plate Lincoln Adam one.” He frowned, watching as the officer walked around to the hood of the car, so close to the front window of the house he could see the man’s badge number through the curtain, the gun clipped to his belt. Tora’s own back feeling exposed in a way that had fuck all to do with his lack of clothes—his skin pebbling, hair raised under the thin t-shirt, his briefs.

“Copy.”

“You know I’m surprised you stayed with him as long as you did,” Tom said, his voice lowering even further as the other cop moved away from the hood of the Lexus, walking back around to the trunk. Tora turned his head to glance at Poppy again before pulling his eyes back to the curtain, suddenly nearly overwhelmed with gratitude for Quincey loaning him the car—no chance there’d be any blood, and definitely no shady shit visible from the outside. Looked like a fancy rich-boy car, nothin’ illegal about that. Just fuckin’ annoying.

Tora’s head snapped back to the front door, though, as he heard Tom murmur, “I mean, you’re a real catch, Pops. Juls was a fool not to lock you down when he could.” Tora cracked his jaw, unfolding his arms as he pushed off the railing, risk be fuckin’ damned. _Who in the fuck—_ He took a step toward the door as Poppy’s mouth fell open, her eyes widening up at the man on the other side of the open doorway. “How long you in town for? I’d love to—” 

Tora put his hand on the side of the door then, fingers curling over the top as he pulled it open wider, the length of his forearm resting along the wood. In the same move, his left arm circled Poppy’s waist as he stepped up beside her. _So, this was the fucker named Tom_ , he thought, running his eyes up and down the officer—average height and build, real pale fucker—turned white as a sheet as he took a step backward, almost the same color as the tufts of white-blonde hair sticking out the sides of his stupid fuckin’ hat. Watched as the man’s eyes nearly popped out of his fuckin’ head as his gaze caught along the peonies and koi, gulping visibly as Tora flexed. Tora watched as Tom’s eyes fell to his waist, quickly looking away at the realization that the giant, tattooed man wasn’t wearing any pants—the tiger along his leg on full display. Tora pressed his lips together, suddenly very aware of the breeze through the thin cotton of his briefs, the hang of his cock and balls, but fuck it—let ‘em see what the fuck this was, he thought, as he pulled Poppy up against him, his thumb stroking her hip. This woman he loved. Could feel something like pride swelling in his chest as her right hand settled on the small of his back, a couple of her fingers slipping below the hem of his shirt where the gun would normally be.

“Pops, I didn’t realize you had company. Juls know about this?” Tom gestured a hand limply toward Tora. Behind him, Tora could see as the other officer bent further, pulling out a flashlight and shining it at the license plate on the Lexus.

“Please don’t call me that. It’s Poppy,” she bit out, her fingers tightening at Tora’s back. “And what the hell does Julri have to do with anything?”

“Pops—Poppy,” he caught himself quickly as she huffed through her nose. “I mean, you were high school sweethearts, and you _just_ broke up. And now…” he trailed off for a second as Tora turned his gaze back to him, his lips downturned, brows heavy over his eyes as he tried not to snarl. “I mean, what in the world are you doing?”

“Havin’ a fuckin’ slumber party, the fuck’s it look like,” Tora glanced down at the badge on his chest, biting out, “Officer Chen,” before he clenched his jaw shut. It’d been fuckin’ stupid, risky as shit, knew it as soon as he’d said it. Could feel Poppy’s fingers tighten on him as she inhaled sharply through her nose.

Tom leaned his head back, putting his hands on his hips, two fingers resting on the grip of his gun in his belt. “I was asking her,” he said low. Tora tilted his head to the left, running his tongue along his teeth. Fucker reminded him of Lang, the power of a gun inflating his head with a false sense of security. He let his eyes flick down to Tom’s hand, the one braced on his holster, before dragging his gaze back up to the fucker’s face. He pulled his lip up in a small smirk, keeping his eyes cold. Dead. Watched as the officer swallowed again, breaking eye contact.

“ _Her_ has a name,” Poppy said, her palm pressing flat against Tora’s back. He took a deep breath.

Tom blinked, looking away and back at Poppy as he moved his fingers off the weapon. “Yeah, Poppy. I know.” He looked her up and down, shaking his head, “didn’t know you were that kind of girl, though.”

Tora saw red, everything red. His knuckles on his right hand cracked as he clenched his fist on the top of the door. He opened his mouth, lifting his hand slightly away from Poppy as he made to step closer to the motherfucker in the cop outfit when she slipped her hand from the small of his back to grip him firmly around his waist, the heat of her body blazing through her sweater as she pressed against his ribs.

“Hmm,” she nodded, tilting her head so that her braid skimmed the outside of Tora’s chest. “And what kind of girl is that, Tom?”

The man hesitated as his partner stepped back up to the door to join them, “evening, sir,” he addressed Tora. “That your car over there?”

As Tora opened his mouth again, Poppy stopped him with her other hand to the thin material of his shirt where it clung to his lower abdominal muscles right above his waistband, her fingers resting on the faint trail of hair that led from his belly button to his groin. She shook her head at Tom, “ _That kind of girl_ ,” she repeated his words, “and _this_ from the guy who was just hitting on me? On duty, no less.” She turned to look at the other officer who’d quickly turned his attention away from Tora and onto Poppy, clearly fuckin’ confused as to what the hell was goin’ on. From somewhere on the other side of the door above the stairs, Tora could hear the moth fluttering still. “Sir, how would I go about filing a complaint against a responding officer?”

Reynolds looked back and forth between Poppy and Tom, who huffed, glaring out at the flowers along the driveway before turning and stalking back toward the patrol car. Tora watched as he pulled out a cell phone from his pocket, the glow of the screen casting his face a pale, sickly green as Reynolds turned to look at Poppy again. “I think I missed something…” he trailed off.

“No,” she said, ignoring his unspoken question, “we haven’t seen anything suspicious. Please thank the neighbors for us.” Reynolds nodded twice, glancing back behind him where Tom was talking to the other two people at the end of the driveway. Tora watched as the blonde man pointedly kept his back to the house, even as the neighbors gestured animatedly toward Tora. “You can let them know we’re fine. Or don’t. I don’t care, officer,” she said, her voice sharp. Cold. Real fuckin’ pissed. “If you don’t mind, we have a slumber party to get back to.” Tora bit the inside of his mouth, swallowing hard as he fought to keep his expression neutral, a feeling in his chest like he might float the fuck away. Had to stay grounded, though. Fuck, he thought, trying to shake himself back to reality. The cops in the driveway, at her fuckin’ door. The red and blue lights pulsing like the inside of Club Miracle, the heart of Balthuman territory, up the darkness of her Granny’s quiet street. Because of him. Danger because of him.

The officer nodded quickly, opening his mouth, maybe to ask about the complaint before seeming to think better of it. “Well, thank you. Um,” he swallowed, glancing back toward his partner and taking a step down onto the driveway’s pavement. “I won’t keep you and your—” he cut himself off as Tora tilted his head, “you two up any longer,” he said to Poppy, as though trying to make up for his partner’s conduct. He reached into his shirt’s front pocket, removing a business card and extending it out over the threshold of the open doorway. “Hey, if you do see anything suspicious, give me a call, non-emergency number’s on there,” he said as Poppy reached out and took the card, pocketing it before she brought her hand back to Tora’s abdomen. “Good night to the both of you and apologies for the inconvenience,” he said, nodding once before striding back down the driveway, tugging once firmly on Tom’s sleeve and jerking his head toward the patrol car. Tora heard the radio crackle once more before Poppy was moving against him, reaching for the handle. Tora released the top of the door, his fingers cracking as he opened his fist.

“Wait,” he said, stepping around the door to find the moth where it clung to the curtain. He paused for a moment, opening his hands in front of him, poised above the moth, fingers like talons. When it didn’t seem like it was aware of him, or maybe it didn’t think him a threat, Tora’s hands darted forward, caging its small body with his fingers in an open hold. Careful not to crush it, could feel its wings beating frantic against his skin. He strode back to the door, stepping around Bobby and releasing the moth into the air. Watched as it fluttered up, a ghost against the night sky as the patrol car pulled away, the red and blue lights cutting off suddenly, plunging the rest of the street into darkness except for the glow of the brakes and the two floodlights—the one above the garage across the street where Tora could see the neighbors watching from the window, and the one above her Granny’s door. He looked at them for a moment before he felt Bobby’s hands on his arm, pulling him back into the house. She closed the door then and he let her shut out the world, the crickets muting once more as she turned the lock, taking a deep breath.

Her fingers tightened on him as she leaned over to the wall, flicking the switch to the floodlight with her other hand, plunging the room into near-darkness, only the faint glow of the moon through the windows illuminating the soft angles of her face as she leaned her head back to look at him. He met her gaze, her eyes shining. Could see her chest heaving under her sweater, her face flushed from the encounter. As she stared at him, he watched as she licked her lips once.

“Goddamn, woman,” he murmured, pulling her against him. His cock twitched, stiffening as he backed her up against the door, breathing heavy against the stillness of the room. He ran a hand up along the side of her body, fingers catching along her baggy sweater as he cupped the back of her neck, holding her gaze, an undercurrent of heat in her eyes that he realized too late were fiery with anger.

“My guns. Are in my bag?” she asked, her voice low, livid. Each of words he’d spoken to her at the top of the stairs dropping from her teeth like she’d gathered them up when he’d first said them and had tucked them away for this moment.

_Shit_. He licked his lips once, nostrils flaring on an exhale as he brought his hands down to her waist, leaning back slightly, allowing her space. She took a step forward, though, her chest pressing against his torso as she brought her hands to his forearms, gripping tight.

“What the hell was that?” she gasped, only barely controlling her anger as her hands squeezed him. “What, you were going to _shoot_ at them? At the police?”

Tora shook his head, swallowing, “Poppy—” He took a step back as she moved forward again.

“And what the hell does Quincey have to do with it?” He watched as her eyes widened, shining in the moonlight from the sliding door in the kitchen behind him. 

“Popp—” he sighed as she cut him off again.

“What did you think was going to happen, Tora?” Her voice had risen, shaking. “You didn’t think I could handle it—”

“Poppy—”

“—and why are you calling me that!” she shouted, her hands anchoring around his bent elbows stilling him just as he made to take another step back.

Silence settled around them as he watched her, his own eyes wide, brows rising on his face. The only sounds—her ragged breathing, the tick of the clock. Even the crickets were barely audible. “What?” he breathed.

She took a breath, blinking a couple of times as her body shuddered. “Oh my…” she shook her head, looking down at the ground between them for a moment as she inhaled again, slow. She tilted her head to the side, peering at his thigh, “shoot, we should clean that, too.”

“Bobby.” He leaned down slightly, raising one of his hands from her waist, her fingers still locked around his elbow as he lifted her chin. He watched as she dragged her eyes up to meet his stare. “I know ya can handle yaself. Shit, sweetheart, I’ve _seen_ it,” he murmured. “I just—” he swallowed as she watched him, the rest of her anger slowly slipping from her face, “if those hadn’t been cops…” he trailed off, his eyes flicking between hers as realization dawned across her expression. “Not sayin’ I was expectin’ anythin’ like that, just—” he took another breath, blowing it out slow. “Just comes with the territory. I always gotta be ready. For anythin’. Don’t make a difference where.” He said, thinking back to her insistence earlier in the day that Moonbright was safe, as he brushed a strand of her hair back behind her ear, tucking it beside her loosened braid, “never want ya gettin’ hurt, sweetheart.”

She closed her eyes, a small smile working its way over her face—relief? “I know you’re a bodyguard and all, but you know your job isn’t to protect me, right?” When she looked back up at him, her eyes were warm. Tora licked his lips once—thought he knew what she was sayin’, still didn’t change the fact that the only reason she’d ever been in danger was cause of him. He couldn’t let anything happen to her—just wasn’t a fuckin’ option. He nodded once.

“So, who the fuck was that asshole anyway. You knew him?” he asked, and she rolled her eyes, huffing as she slipped her hand into his, pulling him back toward the stairs. He reached his other hand out to the door as they passed by, checking the lock once more before she was leading him up the stairs, the bathroom light illuminating the edge of each step.

“One of my ex’s friends,” she said as they reached the landing, shaking her head. “Never gave me the time of day when we were in school together—wouldn’t even say hi when I’d sit with them for lunch.” Tora frowned. Who the fuck wouldn’t say hi to Bobby?

“No wonder they’re friends,” he grunted, coming to rest against the doorframe and folding his arms across his chest as he watched her bend to grab the cloth from the floor, tossing it beside the sink before she reached for a clean one. “Assholes have a way of findin’ each other.”

“Mmm,” she hummed, motioning for him to sit down on the toilet seat where it was tucked between the wall and the sink. “Thanks for, um…” she trailed off as he stepped up to her, bringing both of his hands up to her cheeks, stroking his thumbs along her soft skin as she closed her eyes, a small smile on her lips. He leaned then, bending slightly to press his lips to hers, warm and soft as she moved against him slow. Tasted sweet, like the cake.

“Anytime, Bobby,” he murmured, holding her gaze for a moment before he stepped around her, sitting down on the toilet seat as she’d instructed. She nodded to herself, biting her lip around a small smile as she ran the cloth under the warm water from the sink, pumping some soap onto it before wringing the fabric and turning to face him.

“Spread,” she said softly, tapping her bare foot against his as she gestured toward his knees. Tora pulled his feet wide and watched as Bobby crouched between his legs, her hands moving to hold his thigh on either end of the gash, peering closely as she nodded, like she knew what to look for. Tora smiled, tilting his head at the gentle touch of her fingers.

“So, how’s it lookin’, doc?” he asked. “Gonna make a full recovery or what?”

“Looks like it,” she said, smiling before she glanced up at him, a gleam in her eyes, “good thing I did all the driving, really made the difference.”

He shook his head, laughing through his nose, “sure, sweetheart.” She stood to rinse the cloth, bending over him to reach the sink as he brought his hands to cup the backs of her thighs, running his hands up and down the denim of her jeans, watching her in silence as she crouched back down, blotting away the soap and excess water that dripped from his quad down along his hamstring, collecting at the back of his knee before running down to his ankle.

“So how many times have you gotten stitches,” she asked. “You seemed pretty unfazed sewing yourself back up.”

_Pfft_ , he huffed a laugh through his nose. “S’not like I enjoy it,” he murmured, “s’why I got some more liquid bandage, shit’s like glue for ya skin.”

“Oh, but that stuff burns,” she said, shaking her head, almost like she was remembering it from some time ago.

“ _Pfft_ , needle’s not so great either, sweetheart. Pick ya poison.”

“How about not getting hurt at all?” she asked.

He narrowed his eyes at her, silent until she glanced up at him. “Aren’t ya the one who insisted on takin’ a picture of ya cuts? Puttin’ it on ya fridge?”

She opened her mouth. Closed it. Opened it again, a smile working its way up her lips. “Touché.” 

_Pfft, cute fuckin’ hamster_. Fuckin’ strong. Brave. She must’ve always been that way. Tora watched her in silence, remembering the way she’d looked standing in the doorway, her voice steely as she’d cocked her hip, her hair blowing out around her head. He reached up to tuck a strand back behind her ear, taking in the way her braids had tangled along the sides of her head.

“Bobby, ya want these in?” He nodded to her braids before looking down at her fingers on his thigh as she gently dabbed along the gash—the skin looked like it was healing well enough, not as tight and shiny as it’d been in the morning.

She smiled up at him tilting her head slightly to give him access to the end of her braid as he gently tugged off the tie, placing it on the edge of the sink and working his fingers through her hair. “I still get to braid yours, right?” she asked softly, her eyes back on his leg, squinting at the wound, a small frown on her face. “Wouldn’t be a slumber party without getting your hair done,” she said.

_Pfft, pfft_ , he laughed softly, shaking his head. His fingers eased through her hair, detangling it up along her shoulders, moving slower as he worked his way up her scalp. Warmth spread through his chest at the thought that she still wanted to do that—wondered if she’d fully realized what he’d told her. The guns under her bed. Wondered if she’d change her mind once they got back into her room. “Ya remember _my_ condition, Bobby?” he murmured, letting his hand fall down her hair when he finished one side, his fingers catching on her hip as she stood up to wet the cloth again, wringing it out and resting it along the edge of the sink. When she turned back to face him, he could see she was biting back her own smirk. She flipped her head a little so that her loose hair would fall back over her shoulder, bringing her hands up to the other braid as her fingers made quick work of untangling the hair. Tora brought his hands to her waist, running his thumbs up under the hem of her sweater, stroking along her jeans, the belt loops catching slightly as he moved back and forth.

He tilted his chin back a fraction to watch her face as he brought his fingers to her zipper, waiting for a moment. When she didn’t say anything as she held his gaze, her hands continuing to move up her braid, he smirked, quickly undoing her pants, his fingers catching in her waistband as he tugged the denim down over her ass, her thighs. He bent forward, nosing against the cotton of her undies where he could feel her curls, inhaling her scent deeply and biting back a groan as he peeled the jeans down over her knees, her calves. He felt her hands on his shoulders as he lifted first her left foot then her right, tugging the material off of her legs, his palms running down the length of each of her soles. He opened his mouth against her, the flat of his tongue pressing against her mound through the cotton just as he felt her fingers work their way under his chin, pulling him back up to look at her.

She licked her lips as she shook her head, “I remember.” She worked one hand through the hair at the top of his head, her fingers holding him as she reached with her other hand behind her to grab the cloth from the sink, pulling his head back slowly by his hair, encouraging him to tilt away from her so she could see his neck. “Need to change this, though.” Tora sighed as she brought her fingers to the patch, the cloth warm as it swiped his skin from where she clutched it in her fist as she gently peeled the adhesive from him.

He winced, feeling all the little hairs on his neck catching one by one. “Shit, Bobby,” he murmured, one hand coming up to circle her wrist and tugging, “just rip it off quick, one go.” He met her eyes, nodding as she widened them in shock.

“Are you—”

“Mhmm, just do it, sweetheart.” He smirked as he looked at her sweater, a similar color to the sweatshirt he liked with the ballsy phrase across the chest.

He clenched his jaw, a huff escaping his throat as she ripped the patch from him, quickly soothing his neck with the press of the warm cloth to his skin as she murmured, “sorry, I’m so sorry, so sorry.”

He lifted his hand up to her lips, brushing his thumb along them as he shook his head at her until she closed her mouth, letting the bathroom fall into silence. He watched as she worked the cloth over his neck, rubbing away the last bits of adhesive still stuck to him. She frowned, her fingers tracing over the crest like she was thinking hard about something. “I can’t help but think I’ve seen this before,” she murmured. “And not just on your—” she swallowed, her voice quieter as she continued, “your coworker.”

Tora watched her carefully, didn’t know how much he should say, didn’t want to ruin this perfect day, this special place more than he already had with his fuckin’ guns. She’d need to know, he realized. She’d need to know at least a little bit more about the kind of business the clan was mixed up in, if only so that she knew where to steer clear from. _Another time_ —the words he wanted to say again. Couldn’t keep pushing this off, though. Wouldn’t be right—she had to know what she was choosin’. If she wanted to keep choosin’ him. He swallowed against the gentle touch of her fingers. Just last night, she’d already guessed what it was, what it meant. _You seem to hate it._ “The clan’s symbol. A brand.” She frowned at that, her hand stilling on his skin. He almost said, _they own me_ , but he choked on the words, unable to push them up his throat. Instead, he exhaled, “makes my affiliation clear. Unmistakable.”

“What, like, you mess with Tora, you mess with the mafia?” her eyebrows drew up along her face as she tried to understand. He could’ve laughed at how ridiculous it sounded when she put it like that. But shit, she wasn’t far off at all. He knew the brand was also meant for him, though. A reminder every day, impossible to hide from the darkness of the clan, always hanging around his shoulders, his neck. A noose, heavy and knotted just waiting for him to misstep, stumble.

“Somethin’ like that.”

“Your reputation,” she murmured. “Your other name?”

Fuck. As he looked into her eyes, he knew he wasn’t strong enough to say it here. Couldn’t speak that part of himself into existence here, tucked away under the bed, deep in his core. He sucked his lower lip between his teeth, hoping she’d move on without him needing to deflect or outright deny her this piece of honesty. After a moment, she nodded, seeming to read what he was trying so desperately to tell her with his eyes, _another time_.

“You know, I had another name, too, growing up,” she said, forcing her voice into a lighter register. He opened his mouth to tell her she didn’t have to do that, didn’t have to fix this, compensate for him, but she kept going, “Dad used to call it my code name.” She laughed softly, the tension seeming to ease from her shoulders at the memory as he wrapped his hands around the backs of her thighs, his thumbs brushing along her soft skin. Tora pulled his lips up, smiling softly at her, this fuckin’ angel between his legs. “And I like the names you give me,” she said quieter, her voice barely above a whisper on her confession.

Tora felt his chest swell, the back of his throat burnin’, could already feel his eyes stingin’. _Shit, not the fuck again_. Is that what she’d meant downstairs? Had she been upset he was using her name instead of one of his nicknames for her? She liked them that much? He cleared his throat. “Even Bob?” he murmured, hoping his attempt at humor would ease the feel of electricity in the room. Instead, he felt her legs prickle with goosebumps under his palms as she bit her lip, a blush staining her cheeks as she swiped the cloth along his neck again. He felt his lips part in surprise, thought she’d drawn the line at that one—he always said it to get a rise out of her. “What about shorty?” he asked. “Miss Judgy?”

“Not my favorite,” she smiled softly, glancing up at his eyes before quickly looking back at his neck, her blush deepening.

“Oh, so ya got a favorite, sweetheart?” he asked, his voice so low, so quiet in the small room it was practically a rumble in his chest as he thought back to her words in the car, _your voice, so husky_. She inhaled sharply through her nose, her pupils blown wide as she shifted her legs closer together. He flicked his eyes down to the small piece of cotton that covered her, could see the outline of her lips where the fabric pressed up between them. His nostrils flared as he looked back up at her— _so. Sweetheart, then_ , he thought.

She smiled, ignoring his question as she said, “there,” running her hand once more over the crest. “Got the sticky stuff off. Your scars are healing well.”

“Well shit, sweetheart” he smirked, squeezing her legs, “maybe ya _could_ be a doctor.”

She laughed through her nose, reaching behind her to open up the mirror above the sink, pulling out a toothbrush and a tube of toothpaste. He watched as she brushed her teeth, facing him—hadn’t moved out from between his legs even though she could’ve. He wasn’t holding her tight at all. Smiled to himself thinking she still wanted to be close to him. Was choosin’ to be close to him. She spit in the sink, rinsing the brush and her mouth before turning to him again. As she wiped her mouth on the back of her sleeve, she seemed to hesitate, looking down at the brush in her hand before holding it out to him quickly, nearly hitting him in the nose with the force of her movement. “Oh, shoot, sorry,” she said, her eyes going wide as he dodged her hand.

“Shit, Bob,” he laughed, “gonna knock me straight the fuck out.”

She huffed, holding the toothbrush out to him, “I’m sorry—”

“S’fine, sweetheart,” he murmured, catching her wrist with his hand.

“I just realized I don’t have another toothbrush for you, so if you wanted to use mine…” she trailed off as he tilted his head in question. “…if you wanted to use mine, I don’t mind.” He felt his lips pull up as she continued in a rush, “I mean, don’t feel like you _have_ to. I know you probably think it’s gross. We have mouthwash, too, and floss—”

He stood then, bringing his hand to her chin and lifting her face up to him as he peered down at her. “S’not gross,” he said, taking the toothbrush from her hand. He leaned around her, grabbing the toothpaste from beside the sink and squeezing some onto the bristles as she watched with wide eyes, looked almost like she was holding her breath. Didn’t bother tellin’ her he’d already used his own mouthwash, shit. She’d offered him her goddamn toothbrush, how the fuck could he turn that down? He sat back on the toilet seat pulling her between his knees as he brushed, his free hand resting on her ass as his thumb stroked the skin along her undies. Her bottom lip pulled between her teeth as she watched him before he leaned past her, spitting into the sink and rinsing off the bristles. When he held it back out to her, she took the brush wordlessly from him, putting it back inside the mirror and scooping up the package of nicotine patches before grabbing his hand. She flicked the light off on the way back across the hall and Tora spared a glance down the stairs to the dark landing below before she’d pulled him into her bedroom, shutting the door behind them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ✨Come say hi on IG @melarela1223 where I post WIPs, inspo, and other random shit about my MPL obsession✨
> 
> Ch. 41: is this slumber party the pillow fight kind or the netflix and chill kind? Either way, there's gonna be hair-braiding


	41. By blood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tora and Poppy learn more about each other's families.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoop whoop!! Have been excited for this one and the next for a very very very long time, hope you enjoy 😛😛
> 
> Ah forgot to say: NSFW
> 
> As always, characters belong to the real MVP Lilydusk, brilliant creator of Midnight Poppy Land. Support her on Patreon! https://www.patreon.com/lilydusk

**Chapter 41**

Poppy nodded toward the bed, inviting him to sit down as she turned from him, opening up one of the dresser drawers and pulling out a t-shirt. As Tora sat back on the mattress, he let his eyes roam up and down her body as she pulled her sweater off over her head, her long hair, wavy from the braids, flowing down her back before disappearing under the cotton of the shirt as she pulled it down over her head, poking her arms through the sleeves. He watched as she reached up under the shirt for a moment, her fingers moving against the fabric along her back, and then she was pulling her bra out, placing it over the sweater on top of the dresser and picking up the patches again. When she turned around, he laughed softly through his nose at the design on her shirt: two cartoon raccoons wearing pants that ballooned out around their asses, their long tails poking out, framed by the words _raccoons wearing baggy pantaloons._ “Come here, sweetheart. Jesus, fuckin’ cute hamster,” he murmured, holding out his hand to her.

She smiled as she approached him, grabbing the hem of the shirt in one hand and holding it out so the material tented flat away from her chest, “or do you mean raccoon?” She giggled, “you like?”

“I fuckin’ love, Bobby,” he smirked, “where the fuck can I get one of ‘em.”

“ _Pfft, pfft,_ ” she laughed, letting him pull her down onto his lap, one of her knees on either side of his hips as his hands gripped her ass, running up just under the bottom of the shirt that hung off her, a size too big. She shook her head, grinning as she opened the box between their chests, pulling out one of the patches, “it’s a secret.”

“Oh, a secret, huh?” he shook his head, _fuckin’ adorable_.

She smiled at him before suddenly reaching, her body bending to the side as he moved his hands to grip her hips, watching as she set the packaging on the nightstand before shimmying back against him. Tora let his head fall back at the feel of her squirming on his lap, his fingers tightening on her as he inhaled sharply. He opened his eyes as her fingers drew up the hem of his t-shirt. Tora swallowed hard, his cock jumping in his briefs as he raised his arms for her, letting her drag the material up over his head before he circled his hands back around to her ass, pulling her closer.

One of her hands trailed along his chest, “where do you want it,” she asked.

“I mean, I was thinkin’ the bed,” he smirked, “but I’m down with up against the wall, too.”

“Tora,” she huffed half-heartedly, unable to keep the smile from her face, though. “I meant your _patch_ , where do you want your patch?”

He sighed, nodding, “wherever ya want, sweetheart.”

She trailed her fingers along the tattoos on his chest, and he closed his eyes briefly to her touch, breathing deeply. “Maybe your stomach?” she asked, her eyes roaming along his torso. “I think we should avoid your tattoos, just in case your skin gets irritated.” She touched a spot along his ribs just below his right pec. “Here okay?” she looked back up at him, and he nodded wordlessly, watching as she carefully peeled the patch from the backing, rubbing her thumb along his skin once before smoothing the square along his body. “How’d you get so ripped anyway?” she asked.

“Told ya, Bobby,” he murmured, “born this way.”

She shook her head, laughing softly, her fingers working out an air bubble from the center of the patch. He tilted his head, watching her as she stuck her tongue between her lips in concentration before she nodded. “All set. _Now_ ,” she leaned again, the word straining as he gripped her hips tightly, keeping her upright so she wouldn’t topple over. “Time for your hair.” She beamed at him, slipping from his lap before crawling along the bed until he felt her sit behind him, one leg slipping on either side of his waist. As he brought his hands to her thighs, he couldn’t help but think back to the last time they’d sat together like this—on her bed back in the city. The way she’d hugged him from behind, pulling his shirt off and then hers, skin-to-skin. Shit, he hadn’t even seen her naked then. Why did it feel like so much time had passed?

“Mmm, you’re really tall, I’m going to have to kneel,” she murmured, moving to withdraw her legs from around him.

“Nah, Bobby,” he said, holding her firm by the thighs until she’d stilled her movements before he let himself slip down from the mattress so that he was sitting on the floor, legs spread wide in front of him, back against the bed between her knees. He brought his hands up to either side of her calves, stroking up to her shin and back around.

“You sure?” she asked, leaning down to his ear as she peered at him. “Your butt’s gonna get sore.”

 _Pfft,_ she was worried about his ass on the floor? As he opened his mouth to tell her he’d slept on the floor a majority of the nights in the past week, he nearly choked on his tongue, catching himself at the last second. Could feel the bag with the guns against his ass where it poked out from under the bed. Was fairly certain the handle would still have blood dried on it, just like he knew Bull still carried the invisible stains of his deeds, swiped along the white ceramic _._ He closed his eyes to the feel of her hands on his shoulders, her legs beneath his palms. “M’fine, sweetheart. Give me the Bobby look.”

She laughed, “okay, I’ll try to work fast so you don’t have to be down there too long.” A moment later, he felt her fingers tug the strawberry from his hair, passing it down to him, “you want to hang onto it?” she asked softly as he nodded, taking the tie from her and slipping it around his wrist, the plastic berry resting against his pulse. As her fingers began to pull through his hair, Tora glanced down at her bare feet, dangling on either side of him. He frowned, lifting one closer to him, seeing a red line, indented around her ankle, the skin nearly cut open—a similar flesh wound around the curve where her toes met her foot. He looked at her other side, finding the same pattern of red marks.

“Oi, Bobby,” he said, gently tugging at her right foot, before feathering his thumb over her skin, “shit. Ya feet okay?”

She stilled her fingers in his hair for a moment as she peered down around his shoulder, lifting her foot slightly so she could see, like she didn’t even feel the cuts—had to see ‘em to know what he was talkin’ about. “Oh, yeah,” she said, wiggling her toes once. “From my shoes last night, the heels. You know what they say,” she sing-songed, “beauty is pain.”

“Who the fuck says that?” he asked.

“I don’t know,” she said as he took her right foot in his hands, “people?”

“Fuckin’ stupid people.” He shook his head as he worked his thumbs along her sole. He heard her make a sound somewhere between a moan and a sigh and his eyes flew open as he tried again, smirking when he got a similar response—his own body immediately responding to hers.

“Oh, if you don’t stop that, I’m not going to be able to concentrate on your hair,” she breathed.

“What if I don’t wanna stop,” he murmured, rubbing again. She tugged on his hair once, pulling his head back toward her by a couple of strands that she held in her fingers, her pinkies resting against his scalp. He laughed, mouth opening on a smirk. “Shit, ya fuckin’ sadistic, ya know that?”

“Mhmm, hold still,” she muttered, “your hair’s really slippery.”

He frowned slightly. _Slippery?_ Didn’t know what the fuck that meant—was it bad? Just as he was about to ask, she spoke again, “so what _were_ you doing in Moonbright?”

He ran his palms up her shins, his thumbs running along the dips of her calves. Knew what she was askin’—what he’d left unspoken, unfinished on the blanket beneath the tree. “Well, Bobby. A certain hamster needed cake,” he deflected, “even though I don’t think she finished it—”

“Okay, first of all,” she cut him off, her fingers releasing the hair she’d been working on, letting a braid thump back to his shoulder as she moved her hands to the top of his head again, “cake is life—we’ll definitely be finishing it for breakfast. And second,” she said as his shoulders shook on a silent laugh, “you know that’s not what I meant.”

Tora inhaled deep, letting his chest expand, holding the air in his lungs for a moment before he blew it out. “Clan shit,” he finally said, thinking back to the van, the boys insistent on joining him for the collection run.

Her fingers stilled for a moment. “How old were you then?”

He sighed, letting his hands fall to her feet. “‘Bout sixteen.”

A moment later, she pulled the finished braid back away from his neck, her fingers tracing the crest along his skin, featherlight as she said, “I don’t remember you having this, though. If it’s a—” she swallowed, “it it’s a brand, wouldn’t you have gotten it as soon as you joined?”

 _Joined, pfft._ Made it sound almost like he’d had a choice, but she knew he hadn’t. He’d told her as much on the floor of her kitchen. Tora brought his left hand up to touch her fingers at his neck, closing his eyes briefly when he found her hand. “Wasn’t too far after.” He frowned, “at least, I think. Dunno, all kinda blurs together, Bobby.” He ignored her last question, hoping she’d move past it. She was pushing along the border of territory he’d never shared with anyone before. Had never spoken aloud before, wasn’t sure if his body would even let him spit up the words. Found himself thinking about the damn owl, unable to eat—what’d she called it? A pellet. Compacted waste, a clog of bones and shit. How many skeletons were caught in his own throat?

“The boys you were with…” she trailed off, her thumb stroking his hand on his neck where he held her to his skin. “Were they the same ones from Regina’s Peak—the guardrail? Quincey, Gyu, and…” her voice faded out again. “Were they part of it then, too?” Tora let his eyes fall to the dresser in front of him, his feet against the wood, spread wide. He glanced up at Bull, the plant lining up almost directly with the center of his body. “Sorry,” she murmured after a moment, “you don’t have to answer that, or—” she broke off, thinking for a moment as she slipped her hand from his, bringing her fingers back to his scalp. Her touch so gentle as she threaded his hair, “or any of it.”

It was tempting, he had to admit as he swallowed against the words he was holding in his chest. Would rather not speak any of them, would rather just be here in this moment with Bobby. A fuckin’ slumber party. His eyes traced the lines of the plant, the leaves that had grown brighter since the beginning of the week—were they really taller like she’d said? He thought maybe they were. Or maybe they just looked that way from the floor. He took a deep breath, closing his eyes briefly, feeling the floor under his legs, the way the backs of his knees lifted up slightly, the air of the bedroom warm in the empty pockets of space between his body and the wood. His hands on her legs again, running down her shins to hold her ankles. Felt the press of the bed at his back, the soft comforter. The warmth of her thighs on his shoulders, holding him to her center. Let himself take root against her body in her bedroom, this warm yellow room with the glowing lights, the smell of her all around. Remembered the way she’d steeled herself against the officers, her hand at his back, arm tight around his waist, the way she’d brought her fingers to rest above his groin. Claiming him, choosing him against all odds and in the face of the threat. He could do this for her, open himself, loosen his spine.

“Yeah,” he said, sighing softly as her fingers paused for a moment in his hair before continuing. Could feel the little tugs of the strands as she worked her way down the base of his head before she let the braid land on his shoulders, moving back up to the crown of his head again. “Little shits,” he murmured, huffing through his nose.

She laughed soft, “why were they little shits?” she asked.

“Oi, language, Bobby,” his lips tugged up into a small smile as she laughed again. “Always followin’ me around,” he said then, thinking of the boys. How fuckin’ stupid they’d all been—taggin’ shit wherever they went, like they fuckin’ owned the city, like the world was theirs. Not even Fred’s joint was safe from their idiocy. Remembered the one time Goliath had left a tag in Ninedaggers territory—Tora had beat the shit out of him when he’d found out. His brother had always gotten his ass tangled up in stupid, avoidable dumbfuckery like that. So really, was it any wonder that the man was in over his head again? Still had no idea what the fuck Goliath had gotten himself into this time, but if the past was any indicator, someone was gonna end up fuckin’ dead. Someone on the sidelines, innocent.

He spun the ring on his finger against her leg. “They weren’t officially in yet. Well,” he looked back down at his feet, “at least not Ronzo or Goliath. Quince is…different.”

“So then, he’s _in_ the mafia, not just aware that you’re in it?” she asked. Tora nodded. “Oh, don’t move your head,” she said, pressing her knuckles against his scalp lightly.

Tora stilled his movement at her touch, “the son of my boss.” He heard her inhale sharply. “Heir to the empire he’s built.”

“Quincey? Really?” she breathed.

Tora sighed, thinking of his brother. The way he shut down whenever he was around his father, perpetually shadowed by him. “Not like he wants it.” He knew his brother would rather write his dirty books for the rest of his life than take over for his father. “But yeah.”

“Well,” she said, dragging out the word, “if he doesn’t want it, then—”

“Nah, Bobby,” he interrupted—she wasn’t getting it. “S’no choice involved, sweetheart. Least not for Quince. And sure as shit not for me. Lifetime commitment, ‘member?”

“Hmm,” she hummed after a moment.

Tora sighed—still didn’t think she was getting it. “Quince was born into it. Been lucky to get away with writin’ his porn and shit instead of takin’ on a leadership role, but eventually…” he trailed off, swallowing at the thought of his brother forced into Vincent’s shoes, what the fuck that’d do to him.

He felt another braid thump down along his shoulders and a moment later, her fingers back at the top of his head. “How many ya doin’, Bobby?” he asked.

“However many it takes,” she said. “You’ve got a lot of hair, mister.” He smiled, shaking his head and stopping immediately when he felt her knuckles on his scalp again, “you’ve got to keep still.” She waited until he murmured an affirmative before asking, “so then, what about Gyu and…Goliath?” she asked, her voice rising in question as she tested out his brother’s name. He didn’t really like the sound of it here in her bedroom. In Moonbright. The name heavy in the air with their breathing against the faint chirp of the crickets through the glass of her window. “Did they get a choice?”

He licked his lips, “yeah. Was one of the reasons they were always hangin’ around. They always thought it was top shit to be part of the clan. Ares Street Kingz,” he muttered. “Fuckin’ stupid.”

“What happened to you all?” she asked softly, moving again to the top of his head and separating out strands along his temple. “You seem really close with Quincey,” she said, pausing for a moment. “Like brothers.” He laughed through his nose. It was true—in every way but blood. “And you seem to be friends with Gyu even though you seem to scare him sometimes.” Tora felt his lips pull up—after Tora’d broken his leg, Ronzo’d turned out to be alright. Seemed to have learned his lesson—at least one of them had. “Did you know he calls you his badass friend?” she asked.

Tora barked a laugh, “his what now?”

“Yeah, the first night I met him he told me I should ask his badass friend about his tattoos.”

 _Pfft_ , fuckin’ Ronzo. Go figure. Shit, maybe he should thank him—is that why she’d kept talking to him after she’d scared off the asshole at the bar? “Badass, huh? So, what’s the verdict, sweetheart?” he asked as she let the braid thump to his shoulder where it slipped over the swell of his trapezius muscle to his bare chest. “Am I a badass? Or just a thug?”

She slid her arms around his neck, dipping down so that her hands pressed against his chest, her chin on his shoulder as she peered at him from the corner of her eye. “Why not both?” she asked. He couldn’t tell if she was thinking of that night in her kitchen, his hands on either side of her before they’d left her apartment for Regina’s Peak when he’d asked her the same question. “So, who’s Goliath?” she asked then and Tora felt his stomach bottom out, the heat he’d felt in his core slipping away from him.

He moved his hands from her legs to her arms, holding her against his shoulders as he considered what to tell her. Tora glanced up at the dinosaur on her chest of drawers, knowing he should tell her as much as he could, as much as his body would let him. “My kid brother,” he bit out, swallowing at the words. Sounded fuckin’ weird to say, to name. His brother.

“Like Quincey?” she asked, could feel her breath warm on his jaw.

He shook his head, “by blood.” She tilted her head against him so she could see him better, but he didn’t turn to look at her, kept his eyes on Bull, willing himself to keep talking. “Always gettin’ in trouble, diggin’ himself a hole six feet down a pile of shit,” he muttered.

He waited a moment and tried to go on, but he didn’t know what the fuck to say. Somehow didn’t think she’d understand if he told her the fucker was as good as dead to him—at least, not without tellin’ her why. He swallowed. Couldn’t do that. No way was he gonna end up cryin’ on the goddamn floor again. Not here.

“You don’t talk about him the way you do Quincey,” she murmured. He could tell it was a question even though she hadn’t phrased it that way. Knew what she was asking, though.

He nodded. “He—” Tora drew a breath, tightening his fingers on her arms, “—pulled some shit that…” he exhaled in a rush, “that can’t be undone.”

“How long ago?”

He sighed, “well, he’s not a kid anymore, put it that way.”

“And you’re upset,” she said. “Still upset?” He nodded against her. A fuckin’ understatement, but his anger had morphed over the years, now a dull ache tangled up with the fact that the fucker was still his brother. “Is it something that you can forgive?”

He let out a harsh laugh, “Don’t think so, Bobby. Kinda fuckin’ hate him. And he hasn’t made it easy.”

She tightened her arms around him for a moment before he felt her sliding out from around him, her legs lifting from his bare skin, the air rushing in cool where she’d been pressed against him. He turned to watch her climb down from the bed, sitting beside him, her hands coming to rest along the tattoo on his thigh, as she laid her head on his shoulder. In the silence of the room, he could just faintly hear the crickets outside—how were they so fuckin’ loud? A couple moments passed as she began to trace the ink along his leg with one finger. “I used to hate my mom,” she whispered.

Tora felt his brows knit together at her words—hadn’t been expecting that. She hadn’t really talked about her mom—only a couple times and briefly, at that. Knew she was out of the picture, but not much else. Remembered the way she’d traced her father’s words in his journal— _bitterness_ , she’d said, _for good reason_. He waited for her to continue, resting one of his hands over her palm where she held him along the edge of his briefs.

“She left when we moved to Moonbright. I was just four or five and Dad was—” she took a breath, “well, he was devastated. We all were. I think I told you,” she said, moving her head against his shoulder, “he even stopped journaling for a while and, I mean, you saw how much he wrote before,” she said. He nodded, thinking of the shelves of books downstairs, and from what she’d said, there were more of his books stashed away in the house. “I hated her. As soon as I was old enough to understand that she wasn’t coming back, I hated her,” she murmured, could hear her draw in a shallow breath as her finger paused along the head of the tiger. “Hated her for leaving us, didn’t know why she’d left, and Dad and Granny never told me. Right when it first happened, I’d stopped speaking for a while—even the school wouldn’t let me register when it was time.”

Tora tilted his head to look at her, “like ya forgot? How to talk?”

She looked up at him, “our bodies respond to trauma in all kinds of ways. I’m not sure why I stopped talking. The doctor they took me to said it was a kind of withdrawal into myself. Somewhere safe, a coping mechanism.” Tora held his breath in his lungs—how many times had he heard Quince use that phrase? _Withdrawal_ —was it like the chill down his spine? His kid-self tucked away? Is that what that was? _Trauma_ —shit, he knew trauma, right?

“And then Dad got sick…I’d spend every night wondering if she knew. If she knew and she was staying away on purpose.” Tora swallowed as he felt her nestle her head back along the dip of his shoulder. “How could you stay away on purpose if you knew the person you loved—someone you started a family with—was dying? And it’s not like she didn’t have time to say goodbye. He was dying for years, just…” she trailed off for a moment, and he squeezed her hand. “Just withering away.” Her hand began tracing his thigh again, outlining the body of the tiger. “Then again, if you abandon your family when they’re alive, maybe you’re capable of doing it when they’re dead, too.” Her voice hardened as she spoke, felt almost like something was gripping his chest from the inside. “So, I was angry, all the time, so angry after he’d died and it was just me and Granny. Knowing she was out there somewhere, choosing anything but us. Anything but me.”

“Shit, sweetheart,” he murmured, turning his head and pressing a kiss to the top of her hair, inhaling the sweet scent of her. “That what ya really think? What ya think about all the time?”

She shook her head, “not anymore. I mean, for a while, yeah.”

“Bobby…” he trailed off, not knowing how to say what he was thinking. That it wasn’t a fuckin’ one-way street—that she could choose, too. Choose who was family.

Before he could figure it out, though, she spoke again. “I realized the anger I was holding on to, it was hurting me. From the inside, eating me. alive. And for what? For all I know, she left and never looked back. Jeez, she could be dead and I’d be holding anger inside me at someone I’ll never get the chance to speak to again. I don’t want to spend my life holding onto that.” She shook her head before sitting up, facing him, her knees drawing up so that they rested against his thigh. “I don’t know what your brother did, but I know it must’ve been bad for you to hate him.”

Tora met her gaze, clenching his jaw tight, willing himself to focus on her face. Knew if he closed his eyes for even a moment, he’d only see the body, would be right back in that moment. The cops at his back, on his fuckin’ knees and then the press of the ground against his cheek. The blood pooling, drawing up his nose with each gasp, his open mouth. The salt mixing with the tang of iron. But he was here with Bobby, her warm bedroom, her bare legs against his. The raccoons on her shirt, dancing in colorful pants ballooning out like fuckin’ diapers. This woman he loved grounding him here in this moment. He jerked his head once, unable to speak.

“Granny says holding onto anger is like drinking poison and expecting the other person to die. It’s not _her_ saying,” she smiled softly at him, “but it’s true—helped me let go.”

Tora glanced down at her hands, still holding his thigh. He flipped his palm up and she took it, her fingers lacing between his own as he took a breath, steadying himself. “Smart lady. What other things she say?” he asked.

“Oh, lots. Mostly about plants, though.” She smiled, running a hand over one of the braids closest to her. “Want to see your hair?”

 _Pfft_ , he laughed as she stood up, “yeah, Bob. Ready to see this look ya gave me.” She held her hands out to him, but he shook his head, lifting his arms and pressing his elbows into the mattress to help keep the pressure off his leg as he stood up beside her.

“Bet you’ll love it so much that you beg me to do it every day for the—” she broke off suddenly, a flush spreading rapidly from her face down her neck and disappearing under the raccoon t-shirt. He tilted his head. What the hell had she been about to say? But she didn’t give him any time to ask as she quickly grabbed his hand, pulling him toward the door of the bedroom and then across the hall. He squinted against the brightness of the light again as she turned around to face him, ushering him in with an excited wave of her arms, encouraging him to step around her and over to the sink.

“Ya know, I don’t beg, Bobby,” he murmured as he moved around her closer to the mirror, glancing back over at her, not yet turning to look at his reflection.

“I think I could get you to.” His eyes widened, felt his mouth fall open as she bit her lower lip. He let out a low laugh, taking a step back toward her, but she stopped him with a hand out, fingers spread wide, “ah, ah, ah. You didn’t look.”

He ran his tongue along his teeth as her eyes dropped to his mouth before slowly pulling his gaze to the mirror. _What the_ — He blinked in surprise at his reflection, the hair pulled back from his face entirely, braids pulling it in rows down his head where they hung around his shoulders.

“You like?” she asked quietly from the doorway.

He took a breath, holding it for a second before exhaling as he turned his head side to side, leaning closer to look. Was fuckin’ weird—could almost see himself as a teenager, the last time he’d had short hair. As he brought a hand up to run along the tops of the braids, she stepped up behind him, gently tugging the strawberry tie from his wrist. He felt her hands in his hair, could see her reaching up in the mirror as she pulled all the braids together, securing them at the base of his neck. “I don’t have enough ties for each one,” she murmured, “so this’ll have to do. Otherwise, they’ll all come loose.”

“Wouldn’t want that,” he smirked as she peered around him, rolling her eyes at his reflection. She watched him for a moment, her eyes dropping to the crest on his neck. “What is it,” he asked. She’d been lookin’ at it all night. Couldn’t tell if she was fixated on the ink or the scars. Maybe both.

“I think…” she tilted her head, her brows drawing together as she squinted at his neck, one of her hands coming up to trace the tattoo. “This is going to sound weird…”

He waited for her to continue, but she was silent. Staring at the crest. “Yeah, Bobby?”

She shook her head, “it looks so familiar.”

Tora nodded, “ya probably seen it on the news—”

“No,” she shook her head. “I mean—yes,” she clarified, meeting his eyes for a second in the mirror before looking back at his neck. “I saw the reports, the big bust with the politicians. But that’s not it. I think I know…” Suddenly, she turned, moving back out of the bathroom.

If it wasn’t the news, where the hell did she recognize the symbol from? He raised an eyebrow as he watched her stand on her tiptoes in the middle of the hallway, reaching for the string above the landing. Couldn’t help his eyes as they traveled down the length of her body, her ass peeking out from under the oversized shirt. He smirked, watching her squirm as she attempted to grab the string that dangled well above her head before he stepped out from the bathroom, leaning over her to grab it and pull it down.

“Almost like bein’ a giant comes in handy,” he smirked as she clicked her teeth at him.

“True, but you probably can’t fit up there,” she said, looking up at him and nodding toward the dark opening.

“Dunno, Bobby,” he murmured. “Seem to fit fine in other tiny hol—”

“Tora,” she hissed, smacking his arm as he laughed, half-heartedly dodging her blow. _Pfft, too easy_. He felt better, lighter. The memory of his brother, that day, slipping from him. As the panel opened, creaking with age, a musty scent unfurled on a cool draft from the darkness of the open crawlspace above them. “Ya want this down, Bobby?” he asked, placing a hand on the ladder that was tucked up on the other side of the panel. When she nodded, he pulled it for her, the wooden rungs unfolding down to them. She put her hands on the second-to-bottom rung as Tora raised his eyebrows, waiting. Knew she needed help. The way the ladder was set up, she’d have to do a fuckin’ pull up to actually start climbing up. That or a fuckin’ stepstool. She stared up for a moment, biting her lip as he leaned forward, bringing his lips to her ear.

“Need a lift, sweetheart?” He smirked as she blushed, huffing softly. She glanced up and then back at her hands before nodding. He laughed softly, wrapping his hands around her waist. Before he lifted her, he murmured in her ear, “ya know, Bobby, I’ll always help ya. Just say the word.” Her lips pulled up into a smile as he lifted her up the ladder, her bare feet catching on the bottom rung. He watched as she climbed, shifting his hips as her ass moved back and forth—could still see the outline of her through the cotton of her undies. As she climbed up into the darkness, he heard her sigh before she poked her head back out, smirking as her eyes glanced down the length of his body. He put his hands on his hips, not like he could hide what she did to him right now in just his fuckin’ briefs, shit. “Yeah, Bobby?”

“I can’t see anything, could you grab me a phone.”

“Hold up, that another favor, Bobby?” he smiled slow, tilted his head as he looked up at her through his lashes. “Ya know, I’m still waitin’. Been real patient,” he lifted his eyebrows at her.

She rolled her eyes, smiling, “okay, you thug. Name your price.”

He laughed, “nah, Bobby. Ya the imaginative one—ya tell me.”

She sighed, looking above his head for a moment as she squinted, thinking. “What if I let _you_ drive us back to the city tomorrow?”

“Come again, Bobby,” he said, tapping on his ear. “Sounded almost like ya said ya were gonna _let_ me drive, like it’s ya car or somethin’.”

“I mean, if you’re good,” she smiled sweetly.

“If I’m good, huh,” he muttered, shaking his head as he laughed to himself, striding back into the bedroom to grab his phone from beside Bull, thumbing at the flashlight a couple times until the screen registered his touch. Shit, he really was a goddamned sucker for her, wasn’t he. “Got a condition,” he said as he stepped back up to the ladder, the phone halfway stretched toward her as she reached down, narrowing her eyes. “Show me how to make those rice balls,” he said, hoping she wouldn’t see through to his real motive—it’d been so long since he’d spent the night with her at her place. Missed it. Missed her. Wanted to hold her in her too-small bed, smell her all around. Be wrapped up in her, tangled under the blankets. Feel her snoring against him, the plants everywhere. She beamed at him.

“I think that can be arranged,” she nodded as he extended the phone the rest of the way, placing it in her hand, “you free tomorrow night?”

He nodded, “yeah, Bobby.

“Good, maybe you’ll get your other condition, too.” _The fuck?_ Before he could react, she’d disappeared back into the darkness—could see the light of the phone illuminating the rafters of the roof above her as she moved around. He heard a thump as she grunted. Tora put a hand on the ladder, about to come up and see if she needed help, but reconsidered as it creaked. Wasn’t sure if the thing could support his weight.

“Ya good up there, Bobby?” he called, angling his head to try to see up into the crawlspace.

“Yeah,” she grunted. There was silence for a moment. Another couple of thumps and then the light was drawing closer, the shadows lengthening as she approached the opening. Tora quickly reached up to grab the box that suddenly appeared, obscuring her from him. “Oh, thanks,” he heard her say as he took it from her hands, quickly setting it on the floor as she climbed back down, waiting until she was on the final rung to wrap his hands back around her waist, helping her down to the floor. As Tora folded the ladder back up, closing the panel and shutting out the musty draft, she pushed the box into the bedroom with her foot, gesturing for him to follow her with an outstretched hand.

He took one last glance down the stairs again before following her back into the bedroom where she’d already knelt down onto the floor, pulling open the cardboard flaps of the box. Tora closed the door behind them and walked over to her beside the bed, sitting down on the edge by her side, elbows on his knees as he watched her dig through the contents. Little puffs of dust swirled up with her movements and Tora saw a little spider climb from the bottom corner closest to his foot, quickly moving across the bedroom floor and under the chest of drawers. When he turned his head back to look at her, she was holding a stack of black books in her hands, trying to hold onto them as she dug around with her other hand.

“Here, sweetheart,” he murmured, reaching down and opening his hands for her to pass him the books. She smiled at him, placing them carefully in his palms.

“More of my dad’s,” she murmured, gesturing at the stack. Tora nodded, his thumb flipping open the one on top to a page in the middle. Her father’s handwriting, blocked characters shaky, wider, the rows not nearly as neat as the ones downstairs. He drew his thumb over the imprints of the words—looked like more of what she’d called shorthand. “This is the box that has all of his most…recent stuff,” she frowned as she said it. Tora moved his free hand to her shoulder, rubbing her once with his thumb as she smiled softly at him. “The stuff from his study right before he moved to the hospital permanently. That and some of the belongings he took with him.” She nodded toward the books in Tora’s lap. “His last journals. Couldn’t bring myself to read them, at least not as closely as I did all the others,” she murmured. “Imagine it’d be like—” she swallowed, exhaling softly, “like watching him die all over.”

Tora watched her draw in another steadying breath as she pressed her lips together, her jaw working side to side. “Granny says it’s all mine, whenever I want to take it,” she said, nodding at the open box, her hands hanging limply over the sides of the cardboard. “All these years, I’ve barely been able to bring myself to look through it. Never felt right taking it when I moved in with—” she stopped abruptly as Tora nodded. “And haven’t brought myself to take it with me to the city.”

He nodded, squeezing her before sliding down to the floor beside her, cradling her father’s books before shifting them to the floor beside him. “Come here, sweetheart,” he murmured, opening his arms to her as she shifted closer to him, allowing him to pull her against his chest. He wrapped an arm around her shoulder, bringing his other hand up in the space between them, flipping it so that his palm faced up, Joe’s ring glinting in the light. “Told ya ‘bout Joe,” he murmured, feeling her nod against him. “These were his,” Tora flipped his hand again, the bracelets sliding further down his wrist as she reached out to touch them.

“The ring, too?”

He nodded, his thumb rubbing along the smooth weight of the metal on his middle finger. “Dunno if it’s the same for ya, but…” he thought for a second. “Helps. To wear it. Reminds me of shit he’d say.”

“Hmm,” she hummed, her fingers moving to slip between his. “Never thought of it that way. Maybe I’ll take it back with me,” she turned to look at the box before reaching over to it, dragging the cardboard up against them and leaning to reach back in. She withdrew a stack of photos, balancing them on her lap as she dug around again below the flaps. Tora peered at the top one, the glossy surface worn with age. Could make out two people in the photo—a little girl sitting on a kitchen counter beside a sink, grinning ear to ear as she reached toward the woman standing in front of her. The woman’s face was only partially visible, brown hair pulled back in a single braid down her back. There was a bowl in front of her, one hand inside it as the other held the little girl’s chubby thigh. Her mom?

He moved the photo aside, looking at the next one—recognized her father immediately, his glasses had caught the overhead light of what looked like a hospital room, obscuring his eyes from the camera as he smiled with an open mouth down at a baby in his arms, swaddled up in a blanket with little footprints on it. Tora smiled—must be Bobby. She’d had cute fuckin’ hamster cheeks even as a baby, _pfft_. The corner of the next photo peeked out at Tora, shining slightly in the warm lights of her bedroom as he moved the baby photo to the back of the stack. It was another picture of the kitchen, Poppy on the counter with the woman, the bowl. Looked like it had been taken only a couple moments after the other one—the woman had halfway turned to face the camera, her lips parted in surprise like she hadn’t known the photo was being taken, one hand still in the bowl, the other holding what looked like a piece of food up to the girl. He could see the resemblance—must be her mom. He glanced up at Poppy as she moved aside another couple of books. She was frowning, a piece of her hair hanging down over her face. She puffed to blow it out of her eyes.

“I know it’s in here,” she muttered to herself as Tora reached out to tuck the hair behind her ear. _Pfft_ , cute. He turned back to the stack of photos, flipping to the next one—Poppy on a tricycle, looked like she couldn’t be any older than five or six. The photo had paused her in time, mid-pedal over what looked like drawings of flowers, a smiling sun, chalked on the pavement of the driveway emptied of cars. She was wearing a helmet with a rainbow on it—not the same as the one she’d been wearing when he met her, but then again, she’d been older then. And on an actual bike. He frowned slightly, peering closer at the background blurred behind her—an empty patrol car parked across the street. Tora squinted, trying to make out the jurisdiction on the side. It was grainy—couldn’t be sure, but it looked almost like—

“Ah, here,” she said, pulling her arm from the box, her fist extending toward him as she opened her fingers around a piece of jewelry. The question he’d been about to ask her about the photo died in his throat as he took the swirl of metal from her open palm. “I think it’s a poppy,” she said as he turned it over in his hand. “I don’t know why, but it reminds me of this,” she said, touching his neck. 

Thin bands of metal twisted around each other, red gems embedded in the silver, swooping toward a larger stone set at the center. She was right—it looked a lot like the crest, but he’d only ever seen it printed on paper before. Inked on skin. Didn’t make sense that it’d be a fuckin’ piece of jewelry or why it’d be in the dusty box of her dad’s stuff in her Granny’s attic. He felt his stomach twisting at the thought that anything here in Moonbright would resemble anything from the clan. “Yeah, looks like a flower,” he murmured. “Your dad’s?”

She shrugged, “I guess. We found it in his desk drawer when we were cleaning it out,” she said, taking the broach back from him and flipping it over with her fingers gently before putting it back in the box. “Hadn’t seen it before that—Granny didn’t recognize it either. I wondered if it belonged to my mom, but Granny said she wasn’t really one for wearing jewelry. That’s her,” she said, pointing at the photo in his lap. Tora nodded, glancing back down at the woman. “I couldn’t understand why he’d kept these,” she said, one finger stroking over the photo, the place where her mother’s hand extended toward the image of her younger self on the counter. “But I couldn’t just throw out the stuff he’d hung onto, you know? I think he still loved her,” she murmured, stifling a yawn. “Even after what she did, I know he missed her.”

Tora leaned forward, placing the photos back into the box before turning to grab the stack of her dad’s journals from the floor, depositing them in the space on top of all the other stuff in the box before he tucked the flaps closed. “Come on, sweetheart,” he murmured, standing up and extending his hands to help pull her up off the floor. She smiled at him, taking his fingers as she stood.

“What, so you get to help me up, but I can’t help you?”

He laughed, shaking his head, “Bobby, told ya. Ya couldn’t lift me up even if ya tried.”

She shook her head. “Think I could,” she said, reaching around him to pull back the comforter, revealing a set of white sheets printed with horses with spikes comin’ out of their heads. He leaned closer, looking at the design.

“Shit, Bob, the fuck happened to these horses?”

She laughed, moving to the door to hit the light switch, the room suddenly dark before she walked over to the window, opening up the curtain so that the moonlight streamed in, watery along the side of her body, the floor. “They’re unicorns,” she said, simply, as though that explained it. He opened his mouth to ask her what the fuck a unicorn was, but his breath hitched in his chest as he watched her remove her shirt, tossing it at the end of the bed as she moved back over to him. Her brows pulled together as she looked up at him, and Tora brought his hands to her waist as she placed a kiss to his bare chest. “Is this weird for you?” she asked, her voice just barely above a whisper against his skin, “I don’t want it to be weird for you, being here. I just—” she sighed against him, “just want to feel you. Skin-to-skin,” she murmured.

He tilted her head up to him, two fingers under her chin as he leaned down. “Dunno if ya noticed, Bobby,” he breathed against her lips, “but I always wanna hold ya. Not weird.”

Her lips pulled up against his as she pressed forward, her mouth warm on his for a moment before she was pulling him toward the bed, the covers pushed back. “Ya want these on, sweetheart,” he asked, his fingers catching in the waistband of her undies as she made to crawl onto the bed. She hesitated. “S’fine if ya do,” he said quickly—shit, he’d thought he knew what she wanted but maybe he’d misread her.

“I just might start bleeding,” she said quietly. He could see a blush creep up her back as the words left her mouth.

Right. He nodded, “whatever makes ya comfy, Bobby,” he said, leaning down to kiss her shoulder.

“I don’t want to get any on you.”

He could hear her breathing, shallow inhales, faster than usual. “Sweetheart,” he murmured against her skin, his hands moving to her stomach, pulling her back against him. “Ya remember the first time?” She nodded against him after a moment, could feel her skin heating as she blushed deeper. “So then, ya know I don’t give a shit about that.”

She laughed softly through her nose before she nodded, bending against his arms and pulling the fabric from her legs before she pulled away from him. He watched as she climbed into the bed, her body silvery in the moonlight, her hair still wavy from the braids, loose down her back as she turned, patting the bed beside her as she settled on the pillows. “What about yours?” she asked, nodding at his briefs.

He smirked, quickly bending to remove them before he crawled in beside her, letting her pull the covers up over his ass as he lay on his stomach, his torso against her hip as he wrapped his arms up and around her, settling the side of his face against the center of her chest. She sighed, her arms wrapping around his shoulders, palms stroking over his back. Tora wasn’t sure how long they stayed like that, listening to her heartbeat, her inhales. Knew he should move, would crush her if he fell asleep on top of her like this, but shit, he never wanted to move, never wanted to leave this spot. “Let’s stay here forever,” he murmured. Felt her laugh in her stomach, her tits moving against his face.

She swallowed against him and he lifted his head to look up at her, meeting her gaze. She was biting her lip, her face lit by the moon from the window, wisps of her hair falling around her cheeks. “I hope you know you’re not just my thug friend,” she murmured. “I mean, you are, but…” she paused, her eyes flicking between his as he held his breath, “you’re more than that. Mean more to me than…” she trailed off as Tora shifted up her body, couldn’t stop himself even if he’d wanted to, needed to tell her, show her, pressing up on his elbows as he moved one of his hands to the back of her neck, maneuvering himself until he was on top of her, pressing his lips to hers.

Her body sighed into his, arching up so that their bare torsos pressed together as she kissed him back, her arms around his neck, pulling him closer as she wiggled under him, could feel her legs tucking up to spread around him. Knew what she was giving him permission to do, but shit, he couldn’t trust himself to stop if he felt her bare again. Tora broke away from her for a moment, quickly leaning over the side of the bed and pulling his bag out, digging around for one of the condoms. As he knelt up, opening it carefully with his teeth, he brought his hand to her center, slicking his fingers between her folds and biting back a groan at how ready she already was. She pressed down against his hand, the tip of his middle finger entering her for a second.

Tora hesitated for a moment, biting his lip as his eyes dragged up her body, the moonlight kissing her skin. Wanted to taste her, had a feeling she’d let him even though she’d said tomorrow, but shit, he mostly just wanted to be inside her again, skin-to-skin in this special place. As he rolled the condom down his shaft, he inserted two of his fingers inside her, sitting back on his heels, his nostrils flaring at the sound of her slicking against him as he curled his fingers against the delicate folds inside of her. She moaned, her walls tightening around him and Tora climbed back over her, hand still tucked between them as he brought his lips to one of her tits, swiping sloppy circles around her nipple in his mouth until he felt the peak stiffen before moving to her other side. She gasped his name, her fingers scrabbling at his back, her arms moving along the braids at his shoulders, panting softly in the quiet of the room. He groaned against her as he felt her squeeze him again before she was tugging gently at his hair, pulling him up from her chest to her face. Her lips met his on a moan, her tongue finding his before she sucked gently at his bottom lip.

“Want to feel you,” she breathed. He shuddered on an exhale, loved hearin’ her say shit like that—always felt like she meant more than just his body. Like she was just as caught up in the skin-to-skin shit as he was. Tora slipped his fingers from her, moving to grab the base of his cock as he lined himself up at her entrance before pushing inside her. His head fell forward against her shoulder as he breathed deep through his open mouth, lips finding her collarbone where he pressed open-mouthed kisses to her skin. He brought his hand up to grip her pelvis, fingers wet against her hip as he pulled her toward him, pressing deeper until he was buried, fuckin’ buried inside her, the feel of her body completely surrounding him. He felt her pressing kisses to his temple, her body curling up around his head as she leaned into him.

Tora brought a hand to her back, gently rolling them until she was on top of him, his cock slipping out as she slid against the condom, grinding against his hips—still felt good, he thought in a daze, his head cloudy as he brought his left hand up to the back of her hair bringing her face down to his so he could kiss her again, his right hand palming her ass firm, squeezing her as she rocked their hips together, her body pressed tight against his. He could feel the sheets all tangled up around their legs below the knees, the fuckin’ horny horses, didn’t care.

He released her ass for a moment, dipping his hand back around her to line himself back up with her entrance as she pushed back onto his length, sheathing him again as he groaned into her mouth. Could feel the braids tangling at the back of his head—different than anything he’d felt before, the hair pulling in all different directions, but not bad, he thought—almost like he could get used to it, her doin’ his hair like this—as she brought one hand up to stroke the top of his head, her fingers running between the braids. Her other hand moved down his torso, her thumb teasing his nipple for a second as he thrust up into her before she moved her fingers to her clit, her knuckles against the hair along his groin. Her breath hitched as she stroked herself, her hips stuttering as she lost the rhythm. Tora held her close, pressing his heels into the mattress and tightening his ass as he rocked up into her, kissing her shoulder, her neck, sucking the skin between his teeth as he listened to her moan, could feel the reverberations of her voice humming in her chest against his. He squeezed his eyes shut against his own climax, not wanting this to end, wanting the night to last forever, this moment to last forever, wrapped up with Bobby in her warm bed, the sheets twisted around their knees, binding them together as he felt her begin to shake, her breathing coming faster as her walls began to clench around him. Tora smiled against her neck, breathing her name as he felt his own tension unknot, releasing into the condom a moment later as she rocked sporadically on top of him.

As he slid his hands up and down her back, he felt Poppy press a kiss to his throat, her breathing slowing as she sighed into him, releasing her weight so that she sunk fully into him. “Am I squishing you,” she whispered, could feel her smiling against his skin.

“Nah, Bobby,” he shook his head, eyes finding the moon out her window among the blanket of stars. Looked bigger somehow than in the city—knew that was impossible, though. A dark silhouette flitted across it, wings flapping once before the bird disappeared into the night, wondered if it was the dove or the owl. Maybe something else entirely—there was so much he didn’t know. “Stay s’long as ya want,” he murmured. She laughed as his cock slipped out of her, the condom slapping softly against his balls. “Do need to get this off, though,” he said after a moment. The latex hung wet on his skin, cool in the air of the bedroom.

“Mmm,” she hummed, reaching toward the nightstand as he held her ass. A second later, she was sitting up, her hands moving to roll the condom off of him.

“Bobby, I can—” he sat up on his elbows, gesturing meekly at his softening cock, still slightly engorged as she gently peeled the latex membrane from his skin, balling it up into the tissue she’d pulled from beside the bed. He watched as she untangled their legs, spreading the sheet back over them and lying back down. She reached over his chest to place the wad on the nightstand before settling back against him into his side, one hand pulling him back down to the bed as she draped an arm across his chest, her leg over his thigh, foot hooking around his calf. Tora clenched his jaw as her fingers tightened against his side—hadn’t realized until this moment how much he’d needed this, how much he’d been looking forward to falling asleep beside her again, feeling her body wrapped around his.

Her fingers came up to swipe firmly at his forehead, once, twice, a third time. “Night, Tor,” she murmured, her lips against his pec as he pulled her close, arms circling around her body.

He laughed softly, letting his eyes close against the quiet of the house. “Night, Bob.” He listened to his heart beating in his ears, their breaths mingling in the air of the bedroom, the crickets a little louder now that all was quiet. Somehow, he had a feeling he’d be able to sleep through the night here, despite the unfamiliar surroundings. Bobby was here, they were safe. This special place.

*

Tora gasped softly, suddenly blinking awake, his heart racing, eyes squinting against the cool morning light of Bobby’s bedroom. He glanced down at her—still asleep against him, her mouth open, wet on his skin as she snored softly. His head jerked toward the closed bedroom door, listening. Could tell something had woken him up, every one of his senses on high alert as his eyes darted around the room. He quieted his breathing as he listened intently. And there it was—the slam of the front door downstairs. He tightened his hold on Bobby, legs tensing as he made to sit up quickly, pushing his legs out from under the sheets in a flash, bare feet soft on the floor as he leaned over quickly, scooping up his briefs.

“Tora?” Poppy murmured, her voice heavy with sleep as she blinked at him, rising up on one elbow. Tora leaned over, bringing a finger to her lips as he shook his head, eyes wide. She frowned at him in confusion, still half-asleep, unable to make sense of what he was saying. As she leaned her head back away from his hand, opening her mouth again, Tora froze, angling his body back toward the door as a voice called out, “Poppy? Are you here, sugar?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So much to come, I'm so excited!!!!!!! Thank you for all your comments, they keep me going 😍😍😍
> 
> ✨Come say hi on IG @melarela1223 where I post WIPs, inspo, and other random shit about my MPL obsession✨
> 
> Ch. 41: "Tora whipped back around to look at Poppy as she blinked the sleep from her eyes..." not Tora butt-ass naked and panicking 😂😂


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